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The 

FLAMING CROSS 
OF SANTA MARTA 





I . 

V 


I 


i 


S 

I 


1 , 






-« 



V 






X 












L-V 








AT THE SIDE OF DAN RODNEY I FOTTND MYSELF WITH MY 

father’s blade in my hand 


[page 93] 











/ 


The 

FLAMING CROSS 
OF SANTA MARTA 

BY 

ERIC WOOD 




5 ) ^ 


D. APPLETON AND COMPANY 
NEW YORK : : 1923 : LONDON 

rv 6-1 Vi 



COPYRIGHT, 1923, BY 

D. APPLETON AND COMPANY 






« r c 
r 


PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES 


MW -2 *23 

©C1A705245 


OF AMERICA 



CONTENTS 


CHAPTBR page 

I. The Coming of Dan Rodney ... i 
11. Rodney Tells His Story ... 22 

III. Another Who Knew the Secret . 46 

IV. Strange Meetings. 61 

V. My First Fight with the Dons . . 79 

VI. Garrish : THE Mystery Man ... 94 

VII. An Early Rebuff. 111 

VIII. The End OF THE ‘‘Roaming Death” . 121 

IX. A Fight in the Bellying Sail . . 133 

X. “Dead Men Everywhere” . . . 149 

XI. Westward Bound Once More . . 162 

XII. The Fionas Head. 176 

XIII. The English Slave. 199 

XIV. Put on the Rack. 214 

XV. The Sacking of Santa Marta . . 227 

XVI. Bound for Cadiz. 240 

XVII. Victory .249 













The 

FLAMING CROSS 
OF SANTA MARTA 

CHAPTER I 

THE COMING OF DAN RODNEY 

I T is with some reluctance that I sit down to write 
this story—a reluctance that my readers will under¬ 
stand before they have gone very far. It is never 
very pleasant to relive some scenes through which a 
man passes—scenes in which treachery and near death 
seem to be such prominent features on the painting that 
memory conjures up. 

And yet, somehow, I feel that I ought to give this 
story to the world; indeed, I am compelled to, because 
otherwise some chapters in the history of mankind 
would be incomplete without it. At least, so think I 
who passed through some things that I believe the 
historian would refuse to accept as truth, but for the 
fact that he who tells of them is such a man as I am 
now—a man who holds high office in the service of 
His Majesty King James I, God bless him! For I, 
Roger Hampsley, Knight, Lord of the Manor of Pot- 
ton, by his Majesty’s graciousness, am also a master of 

I 


THE FLAMING CROSS OF SANTA MARTA 


ceremonies at his Court, and a man whose word is 
worthy of acceptation. 

It was not always so; not always, I do mean, that 
the word that Roger Hampsley spoke would be accepted 
if it was such things as he told and I am going to write 
in this book. Truth is a strange creature, the existence 
of which men oft believe not in unless ^tis vouched for 
by some one in whom they can trust, despite the appear¬ 
ance of falseness or exaggeration, which is but another 
word for untruth. 

And that is why I, Roger Hampsley, who never 
before did set quill to paper to write more than infre¬ 
quent letters to friends, do sit me down now and write 
the story of my youth; and if, mayhap as it will be, 
there is much of Roger Hampsley in the story, be 
assured of this—^that ’tis only because ’twas I who 
passed through the strange experiences recounted, and 
only I—of that I am sure—who could refashion them 
for the edification and, I hope, the interest, of those 
who will read the book. No notes have I, for I was 
never a man of letters; and there is no need for notes. 
Every incident of those ferocious years of which I 
write is impressed into my memory as though it had 
been burned there by fire—^and I, who know, do say 
that fire could not have burned them deeper than they 
have been by the hot, searing die of experience. 

And so to my story, which begins on a night in 
December, 1594. Twas the Eve of Christmas, I 
remember. Eighteen I was on the morrow, but the 

2 



THE COMING OF DAN RODNEY 


day to be held no joy for me. How could it? I was 
only one of a thousand other boys in the city of Bristol 
who had neither hope nor future before him. 

Three months agone my father had died; my dear 
mother had gone before him, many years. And when 
he went ’twas found that, ^stead of a fortune for me, 
there was naught at all; and I had perforce left the 
grammar school and come back to Bristol, if haply I 
might find work somewhere amongst the many friends 
of my father. Bluff Roger, as they had called him, a 
man free of his money—too free, so ’twould appear 
—and mighty well sought after. For what ? Just that 
which he had to give. And not one of those who called 
themselves friend had aught to offer me except— 
charity. 

The Hampsleys never took charity, and I refused it 
now. For three months I had lived, though the good 
Lord knows how. I had carried a man’s chest from 
dock to inn; I had saddled a man’s horse; had done a 
spell of common river man’s work, and so had kept 
soul and body together. 

But the blood of Roger Hampsley, who had gone 
with many a noted captain to the Spanish Main, coursed 
through my veins, and I liked not the life of a street 
brat. Fate, so I told myself, held something better than 
that for me. But what? 

Such were my musings as on that Eve of Christmas 
I stumped down the quayside, afraid neither of the 
lurking shadows nor of the next man whom I might 

3 




THE FLAMING CROSS OF SANTA MARTA 


meet. I was a Hampsley, even if my jerkin bore 
marks of hard toil and lowly effort, and let the cold 
blast of the winter’s night and the soddening snow¬ 
flakes drive in and chill the body beneath. The soul 
within was warm, and it answered to the call that 
came—surely to it—out of the dark noisomeness of 
an alley that, even in that murk, I recognized as being 
one of the hell spots of Bristol, a place where sailor- 
men were lured and robbed, and ofttimes murdered that 
no trace might be found of them or of those who had 
taken from them the earnings of long voyages into 
sometimes uncharted seas. 

The cry, I say, came muffled through the snow- 
filled darkness, and I turned, like a hound for the hare, 
and slipped me into the enfolding darkness of the evil¬ 
smelling alley, drawing my cutlass—the one thing I 
had salved from the ruin of my father and had car¬ 
ried with me ever since—^as I ran. 

Not far did I run, because within half a dozen yards 
I stumbled into a struggling mass that I could not see, 
but of which I could hear the heavy breathing, and 
knew in my heart I was on the spot whence had come 
the call. 

‘'Ho, there!” I cried, and I suppose that in my tense 
excitement my voice had a manly timbre to it, for 
there was a scurrying of feet, and with much cursing 
some one went rushing up the alley. “A cowardly 
knave, whatever his name!” I exclaimed. 

4 




THE COMING OF DAN RODNEY 


As I spoke a voice seemed to come from the ground 
beneath me. 

“Cowardly indeed/' the voice said; “so cowardly 
that he will, ere many minutes, be back with a pack at 
his heels. Help me up, whoever you be. We must 
away!” 

Wondering greatly, I stooped and felt for the man 
who had spoken, found him, thrust back my cutlass, 
and helped him to his feet. 

“Canst walk, sir?" I asked softly. “Or art so badly 
injured that-" 

“Injured, but not so much that 'tis not within me to 
get from this place," was the reply. “An you lend 
me your arm-" 

“ ’Tis yours, sir," I said. So, with the stranger 
leaning heavily upon me, we traced our stumbling foot¬ 
steps down the alley and so into the snow-filled night 
that, for all its bitterness, was preferable to the suf¬ 
focating murk of the alley. 

“A safe hiding place, an you know of one," the 
stranger said quickly. 

I, who of sad lot had learned many things, turned 
to the right and made me for the inn where many times 
I had spent my last silver coin on a bed and a sup. Old 
Ben Hatchway, for all his rascality, had been a good 
friend to me, so good that on this night, when I had 
been by myself, I had felt that I could strain no farther 
his hospitality without the wherewithal to pay him. 
Now, however, with this stranger, thrown as it were 

5 







THE FLAMING CROSS OF SANTA MARTA 


into my care by a strange Providence, I was willing to 
do anything, and especially willing to seek the shelter 
of the Rope's End, because it was the nearest place I 
knew where sanctuary of a sort could be obtained, 

‘'Whither, friend?" the stranger asked me, and I 
told him. 

“Nay, young man—for I know by the thrill of your 
voice that you be naught but a youth, though I see 
you not in this devilish darkness—nay, not there. 
’Twas there that villain found me. Young man, an 
you have not yet tasted it, 'ware o' strong drink. I'll 
tell you why some other time than now. Now 'tis 
for us to find a safe place, but 'tis not in the Rope's 
End we'll find it." 

“Sir," I replied, “I know not what 'tis that has hap¬ 
pened, but methinks I can guess. Thou’rt a sailor- 
man, I doubt not, come home with pockets a-jingle, 
and been preyed upon by some thievish knave who 
swore you friendship over your cups. I know the 
sort. Since the Rope's End is not to your liking, then 
will we try the cellar of the Widow Sawkins, a good, 
if but poor, friend of mine since the day I dragged her 
son from the Channel hereabouts." 

“Whither you will, then," said the stranger. 

We groped our way through the night until we came, 
heaven knows how, to the unlighted house beneath 
which lived the Widow Sawkins. I poked my ragged 
boot through the paper that served instead of glass, 
and the woman's voice came hoarsely up: 

6 




THE COMING OF DAN RODNEY 


“Who be it troubles honest folk at this time o’ 
night?” 

“ ’Tis I, Roger Hampsley,” I said, and the widow 
cackled a laugh that sounded of pleasure. “A night’s 
rest and shelter for myself and a— a, friend, I seek, 
though without th’ coin to pay,” I said. 

“Nay, there is coin and ’nough to spare,” said the 
stranger quickly, and before I could muffle his words 
with my wet, cold hand across his mouth. 

“The less you say about coin the better,” I said. 
“The widow is honest, but there be those who’re not,” 
I told him, and he chuckled. 

A guttering, flickering light was agoing by now in 
the cellar outside which we stood, and a few moments 
later the ramshackle door opened and the Widow 
Sawkins, in a black mobcap that hid the fact she had 
venerable white hair, and a hideous nightgown of red 
flannel, stood looking at us. 

“Enter you, Roger, and Roger’s friend,” she cackled, 
and we went in without a word. “Mind you the 
stairs; there be holes through which a body might 
drop an he not know of them,” she said, as we fol¬ 
lowed her when she led the way with the rushlight in 
her hand. 

I do remember that I had difficulty in keeping my 
friend from falling into those same holes, but at last 
we were in the evil-smelling hole that served the Widow 
Sawkins and young Joe, her son of eleven, for a home. 

“ ’Tis welcome you are, Roger,” the widow said, 

7 




THE FLAMING CROSS OF SANTA MARTA 


*^though there be but bare boards to lie upon, and that 
foot of yours has made a draught like a ’Lantic wind; 
and I with no more flour to make a paste to stick a 
sheet over it. But if you be as tired as me, never a 
bit will you mind. Put you out the light when it 
pleases you to sleep.” 

Saying which the old woman, as good-hearted as 
any who ever lived, laid her down upon the bundle of 
rags in the farther corner of the room, and went, or 
feigned to go, to sleep, while my friend the stranger 
and I squatted on the dirty boards and stared at each 
other. 

‘‘ ^Tis a good name you carry, young man,” the 
stranger said to me at last. 

‘^Aye, as good as any Bristol City ever had,” I told 
him proudly. “But ^tis like to stink in the nostrils 
’less the gods do smile upon one who is the last o’ 
the name!” 

“Now I can see your face,” the stranger went on, 
“by the light of that guttering rush, I do note the re¬ 
semblance. An you be not son or blood relative of 
some kind to Bluff Roger Hampsley, then I’m a Dutch¬ 
man, which heaven forfend! Is’t not so, lad?” 

“Aye,” I told him again. “You are no Dutchman 1 ” 

He laughed at my sally and seemed highly pleased. 

“But know you—knew you—my father, for Bluff 
Roger was-” 

He pulled me up at that with an exclamation. 

“Why say you ‘knew’ and ‘was’?” he demanded. 

8 





THE COMING OF DAN RODNEY 


“The good God grant that Bluff Roger has not slipped 
his mooring/’ 

“It has seemed well for the good God to put an end 
to my father’s course,” I told him quietly, and—I could 
not help it, nor felt ashamed because of it—I had a 
catch in my throat as I spoke. 

“Lad,” the man said after a moment’s silence, and 
he reached out and took my hand in his, “I’m sorry.” 

It was said so simply and yet so sincerely that I 
could not answer him for my emotion. I loosed my 
hand from his and buried my head in my hands and 
wept for the sound of the voice that I should hear no 
more. 

The stranger honored my sorrow and remained 
silent until at last I had recovered; then, when he saw 
me look up, he said: 

“A good man. Bluff Roger, and if I know aught 
of faces, he has left him a good son. Bend low, lad, 
I would tell you something.” 

I looked at him through still moist eyes wonderingly, 
but bent as he requested me. 

“Lad,” he whispered softly, “ ’twas to find Roger 
Hampsley, your father, that I came hither to Bristol. 
Hast ever heard him speak of Dan Rodney, who sailed 
shipmate with him across th’ Atlantic?” 

“Aye, often, and never a harsh thing had he to say 
of that same Dan,” I told him. “Sir, an you be Dan 
Rodney, right well pleased is the son of Roger 

9 




THE FLAMING CROSS OF SANTA MARTA 


Hampsley to meet you, for you were my father’s friend 
in youth!” 

“ ’Tis the same Dan Rodney who speaks tp you 
now, lad,” the man said, and he gripped my hand 
again. He stopped speaking awhile, and his eyes 
seemed to have a far-away look in them, as though 
they were seeing things of a distant past. The grip 
tightened, and I knew that he was living, as men oft 
do, through scenes that belonged to a dead yesterday. 
“Did Bluff Roger ever tell you,” he started off again, 
“of that time when he and I, the second time we sailed 
to far off America, were cast away, two men left of a 
whole ship’s company? Did he ever tell you that?” 

“Aye, he told me that,” I murmured. 

“And of how he and I knocked at the door of the 
King of Spain on the Golden Main, with a rabble of 
rebellious negroes behind us, and well-nigh captured 
Panama itself?” 

“Aye, even that,” I said. “That and the slave gang 
to which you were cast when the fight was over and 
the Dons won. That and the thonged whips, with bit¬ 
ing steel in them, that wealed your naked backs. I 
have seen, Dan Rodney, the scars on my father’s back, 
and for those alone, if naught else, I hate the Dons!” 

“Hate the Dons I” breathed Rodney. “An you hate 
them as I hate them, and as Bluff Roger hated them, 
then heaven help the Dons I” 

“The which heaven does, since it keeps me here in 

10 




THE COMING OF DAN RODNEY 


Bristol City when I would be carrying a reddened cut¬ 
lass down the Spanish Main!” I cried. 

All my boyish dreams came back to me—dreams 
that had had their birth in the stories that my dear 
father had told me when o’ nights we sat beside the 
wood fire and listened to the wind howling outside; 
dreams that had never come to pass because my father 
had always said that while he lived no son of his should 
go into the hell’s maw that men called the Spanish 
Main. 

‘‘Bluff Roger himself!” exclaimed Rodney. “So like 
to him you are, lad! I mind me of that day when he 
and I, aided by a slave, did slip from the mine gang 
at Santa Marta, and he vowed that some time he would 
go back, an heaven spared him, to take full account of 
the Dons! Nay, listen awhile, lad”—as I was about 
to speak—“listen awhile, though I doubt not you have 
had the story time and again. Bluff Roger and I 
walked, marched, crawled across the Isthmus from the 
Southern Sea to the Atlantic. We strove to make the 
coast far away from Maracaibo, but Providence works 
strangely, lad, and it took us, for its own purposes, to 
Maracaibo, and there, riding at anchor, our bloodshot, 
tired eyes saw that which gave them new light and 
life. Two— 

“English ships, ’twas so my father told me,” I could 
not help but say. 

“Aye, lad,” Dan Rodney said. “With a half-drunk 
mob o’ men aboard ’em, fresh from the sack of Mara- 


II 




THE FLAMING CROSS OF SANTA MARTA 


caibo. Well, lad, we minded not their drunkenness, 
but we thought much o* the welcome they gave us in 
their maudlin. And deep-laden were those ships with 
the spoils o^ the sacking and the ransom for the saving 
of the city.** 

“Treasure that was lost ere a month was gone,** I 
told him, remembering what my father had oft re¬ 
counted. “Aye, *tis an old story, but a good one!** 

“Good indeed,** said Rodney. “Good, too, was it 
when, after a fight with a couple of Spanish men-o*- 
war, which sunk one of our ships, the other, that on 
which your father and I sailed, was taken. What, lad, 
you doubt the goodness of’t? You know naught more 
than that your father, hurled overboard by a shot that 
ripped the deck from beneath him, somehow managed 
to live for a night and a day and a night, until he was 
picked up and got him back in God’s good time to 
Bristol here!’* 

“How knew you that?’* I demanded wonderingly. 

Dan Rodney chuckled grimly, I thought, but he went 
on with the story that I was now anxious to hear, since 
*twas new to me. 

“How knew I ?’’ he asked. “The ship was captured, 
and we men who could not die were sent to the mine 
gangs—my second spell, mind you, lad. *Twas while 
I was there that another Englishman, out of Port 
Royal in a ship that suffered a like fate to ours, came 
in his chains, and *twas from him I learned the story 
of Bluff Roger. Sam Portface—*twas the man*s 

12 




THE COMING OF DAN RODNEY 


name; his face one side was birthmarked as with the 
wine of Spain—was aboard the ship that picked up 
Roger, and when the ships went into Port Royal awhile 
after, your father, with a chest full of Spanish pieces 
of eight, his share o’ the cruise o’ plunder ’long the 
Main, took him aboard a vessel bound for England, as 
he’d told me he would. ‘An I get my hands upon 
enough of Spanish gold,’ he’d often said, ‘ ’tis Bristol 
City for me.’ 

“And so I knew,” went on Rodney, “that England 
meant Bristol for Bluff Roger Hampsley. Twenty 
years agone, son—twenty years! ’Tis a long time!” 

Dan Rodney dropped into a dreamy state, as though 
he were again looking back along the vivid past. 

“Twenty years 1” he said presently. “Twenty years 1 
And now—he’s gone. Nay, lad, he’s here. He’ll never 
be gone while you are here! D’you hear me, lad? To 
me you’re Roger Hampsley!” 

“Aye,” I agreed, wondering whether the man's brain 
was turned by the thump upon the head where the big 
swelling showed. 

“That’s it, lad; and I’ve come those thousands of 
leagues to find you, Roger. Thousands o’ leagues, 
with a king’s ransom in my pocket!” 

“S-sh!” I said quickly, turning round, afraid lest 
Widow Sawkins should be still awake. 

She made no sign that she had heard, and there came 
only the level breathing of her as she lay on her bed 
of rags. 


13 




THE FLAMING CROSS OF SANTA MARTA 


“There goes my wagging tongue again,” Dan said. 
“The same tongue that got me into that brawl. But 
none so bad a tongue, after all, Roger, since it found 
me you! Bend lower and listen.” 

I was sitting beside him now, and leaned over so 
that my ear was almost touching his lips when he spoke 
again. 

“Did Bluff Roger ever tell you how he rescued me 
in that march across the Isthmus when a tribe o’ natives 
cut me off while I was asleep and he was a-huntin’ 
food? No? A brave man, and a close-tongued one, 
Bluff Roger was, and never a man to drive the wind 
through his own trumpet. He followed that tribe for 
a hundred miles, and one night he crept into the mud 
hut where I lay bound ready for the roasting—^aye, the 
roasting, I tell you, Roger! Those rascals lost their 
feast!” He chuckled gleefully as he thought of it. 
“ ’Twas Bluff Roger who broke the head of the cook 
with his only weapon, the iron chain-links that dangled 
from his wrist, because we’d ne’er been able to get them 
off. And in the darkness he bit through the thongs 
that bound me. He got me free, and we passed out 
into the night and went back the way we had come. 
That’s how Bluff Roger saved Dan Rodney!” 

“Never such a story did he tell me,” I said, with, I 
doubt not, flashing eyes. 

“ ’Tis a story a man would ne’er forget,” Rodney 
said. “Twenty years I’ve had it here,” and he placed 
his roughened hand upon his heart. “And I’ve come 

14 




THE COMING OF DAN RODNEY 


back too late for old Roger, but soon enough for young 
Roger. How old be you, lad ?” 

‘‘Eighteen, sir,” I told him. 

“And I was twenty-five in those days,” Rodney said. 
“Your father—let me see, he would be about thirty- 
five, eh? A father to me he was, and a father Fm 
going to be to his son, an his son let me!” 

He looked up at me with his clean brown eyes, and 
I knew that I, a waif of Bristol City, had found a 
friend. He saw my answer in my own eyes, and he 
nodded, pleased. 

“ ’Twas Will Shakespeare, lad, was’t not, who said 
that there’s a destiny that shapes our ends, rough hew 
them how we will? Aye, lad, even sailormen a’ times 
know what the landlubbers write! And this is destiny, 
lad. What else ? That I should come from the Span¬ 
ish Main after twenty years and find you, the son of the 
man I sought, so that I might repay him for what he 
had done for me! A king’s ransom, did I say, lad? 
Nay, ’tis a kingdom’s! Art ready to claim it, lad?” 

I do confess that, even now, I was bewildered at the 
man and his rambling tale, and I could but look at him 
awhile in silence while I tried to grasp his meaning. 

“Nay, lad, the rum’s out now!” he said with a sheep¬ 
ish grin. “ ’Twas rum that loosed my tongue in the 
Rope’s End, but that crack about the head drove it out. 
Here ’neath this shirt o’ mine I have the key to a treas¬ 
ure house that-” 

He ceased suddenly and sprang to his feet, as I did 

15 






THE FLAMING CROSS OF SANTA MARTA 


also, for at that moment there had come a splintering 
of wood, and a snow-smothered figure tumbled in 
through the smashed window frame. Widow Sawkins 
screamed as she jumped from her rags, the boy in the 
other corner yelled with fright, while Dan Rodney 
made a dart at my cutlass, drew it out and sprang for 
the man who had entered so unceremoniously. The 
intruder was on his feet by this time, and the vicious- 
bladed knife that he held in his hand gleamed in the 
rushlight^s flicker. 

He was a big man and bearded, with a white scar 
that stretched from his right eye down to his chin. 
He had writ all over him the name of a seafarer. But 
who he was I knew not until, with a snarl of rage, Dan 
Rodney, springing for him, said: 

“My friend of the Rope’s End.” 

That was all that was said between them. But they 
fought—fought as though they were plowing their 
way through battle aboard a ship. Round the room 
they went, and the poor sticks of Widow Sawkins 
ceased to be of what small value they had been. Rod¬ 
ney, despite the advantage of the cutlass’s length, could 
not get within the other’s guard, since the latter had, 
besides his knife, a knobbed stick that methought would 
spoil the one thing left me by my father. I stood 
hugging the wall, begrimed and damp, wondering how 
I might be able to help my new-found friend, seeing 
that I had neither weapon nor opportunity to break in 
upon their Titan fight. Widow Sawkins and her boy 

i6 




THE COMING OF DAN RODNEY 


were cringing in the farther corner, both too much 
afraid by now, methinks, to scream. Not that scream¬ 
ing would matter, since in that alleyway small heed was 
taken of folks^ brawls—there were too many. So 
’twas a wordless battle that was fought and a silent 
audience that watched it, though an I were silent I 
was wide-eyed and watchful indeed, seeking a chance 
that seemed would never come. 

The scarred-faced man was a real fighter, but—the 
blood coursed through my veins as I saw it—so was 
Dan Rodney; and in my mind’s eye I could see him 
and my father standing side by side driving death 
through ranks of Dons on the Main. I longed to take 
my father’s place. 

A crazy chair, caught by a swinging blow from the 
bearded man’s stick—a blow meant for Dan, but eluded 
with amazing agility—came scattering across the floor, 
and a leg of it struck me full upon the shin and made 
me hop. There was strength behind the man’s blow, 
in faith. I stopped me on the instant and had that 
wood in my hand. I saw me in it a weapon, not much 
a one, but still a weapon, and I doubted not that I might 
make use of it. 

The bound that friend Dan had made away from the 
cmcling stick had brought him nigh unto me, and I, a 
little confused, raised my chair leg instinctively. 1 
knew that the other fellow would be over too before a 
moment gone. He was, with a bound that planted 
him before Dan Rodney, with stick uplifted and—I 

17 




THE FLAMING CROSS OF SANTA MARTA 


saw it on the instant—his knife held, in a hand that 
was at the shoulder, ready to be thrown. Dan must 
have seen it, too, for he ducked as he dodged aside; 
but I, with a weapon that I could well afford to lose, 
hurled the leg straight for the ugly face, and caught 
it full in the thick-lipped mouth where yellow teeth 
gleamed. 

A strong arm and a good throw, which brought a 
howl from the man and made him drop the knife that 
might have bit into Dan Rodney or into me. 

And then, as his hand went up to the reddening 
mouth, Dan sprang. My father’s cutlass flashed in the 
weak gleam of Widow Sawkins’s light, struck, bit, and 
the intruder jumped back, knocking over the light as he 
did so; and I heard the heavy thump of running feet, 
the crazy door—I knew it only by the sounds—was 
wholly wrenched from its hinge and fell with a clatter 
to the floor. 

^‘He goes, the dog!” bellowed Rodney. “With me, 
lad I” 

I knew that my strangely met friend was for follow¬ 
ing the rascal, whose footsteps I had heard creaking 
the worn stairs. 

“Nay, Dan,” I cried. “There lurks danger 
and-” 

“A fig for danger, an I get my sword into that 
hound’s hide,” roared my companion, and I knew that 
it was useless for me to argue. So I followed him as 

i8 






THE COMING OF DAN RODNEY 


he went into the night of snow, only, as I did antici^- 
pate, to see no signs of our assailant. 

No signs, have I written? Nay, there were signs— 
of footprints in the snow, but they led, as we found 
when we followed them, into the main port thorough¬ 
fare, and were swallowed up in many another. 

‘‘What now, lad?” growled Dan Rodney, and I knew 
not what to say, except: 

“ ’Tis for you, Dan, to plan. There is Widow 
Sawkins’s, and-” 

“Not there, lad, not there,” the sea dog muttered. 
“An that rogue still be set on that which he has begun, 
the Widow Sawkins will have him as visitor again, and 
maybe with his scurvy friends. Therefore can we not 
go back.” 

“Therefore, so't seems to me,” I told him, “should 
we go back, and not leave that poor woman defense¬ 
less in her broken home.” 

“Nay, lad, the worthy woman will not come to harm. 
That rogue seeks not her, but me—me and that which 
I have. As for her home, ere I do leave Bristol City 
she shall have such a home as she has not seen these 
many years. Whither go we, then?” 

Now I do say that I was hard put to it to suggest. 
I forgot that Rodney had spoken of money, and 'twas 
not until he said: “A good bed, for good money,” that 
I remembered. 

“Then will we to the Flaming Cross,” I said. 
“And-” 


19 







THE FLAMING CROSS OF SANTA MARTA 


“Hist, you fool!” came Rodney’s voice, to my aston¬ 
ishment, and he grasped me by the shoulder. “Say 
not those words!” 

“An a man may not speak of an inn which shelters 
sailormen,” I said, “ ’tis a strange thing! What is’t 
you mean?” 

“Forgive me, lad,” Rodney said. “Nerves like a 
frayed rope’s end, methinks I have. Yet lead me, an 
you know the way, to this place of which you speak. 
’Tis passing strange!” 

“This way,” I said, and dived into a noisome alley. 
“What’s passing strange?” 

“This and that and many things,” was the amazing 
reply of this most amazing man, who could fight like 
a tiger for courage and yet act like a babe at the men¬ 
tion of an inn’s name. “You did take me off my 
guard. I thought ’twas not of an inn that you did 
speak, but of—of something else. And’t has been 
spoken of once too much to-night, since ’twas those 
words that I myself did speak in the Rope’s End that 
dropped me into this kettle of fish—shark fish, too, an 
I know the breed.” 

All of which was so much Dutch to me, I can assure 
you. But although I did try to press him, he refused 
to say more, except: 

“The tale can bide awhile, though you shall hear it, 
since ’twas to tell it to your father that I came all the 
>vay to Bristol City.” 

And I knew right then that Dan Rodney had some- 

20 




THE COMING OF DAN RODNEY 


thing of import to tell; but I little guessed of what 
import it would be, and of the way in which that he was 
to tell was to fashion for me my life, and, as you shall 
learn, if you be patient with a none too skillful spinner 
of yarns, to mold the fate of nations. 




CHAPTER II 


RODNEY TELLS HIS STORY 

I ^FAITH, I was filled with wondering as I led Dan 
Rodney through the darkness to the Flaming 
Cross tavern, kept by a man for whom at times, 
in my poverty and want, I had done odd jobs, and who 
even now owed me small silver: ’twas his way—I knew 
my rogue Wily Williams o’ the Flaming Cross—to 
keep folk, certain folk, waiting, knowing that they 
would come his way again, and he be able to make use 
of them. Sailormen there were like that in his power, 
and oft did Williams find vermin to do ill work, for 
others, amongst those who thought them his bond-serv¬ 
ants because he owed them money. Not so I, Roger 
Hampsley. I owed allegiance to none, except the 
Good Queen Bess, heaven bless her. Natheless, I was 
now willing to go hence to the Flaming Cross and claim 
a night’s lodging ’stead of silver. 

So it was with, as I say, great wondering in me at 
the strange things said by Dan Rodney that I went to 
the tavern. Not flaming then, ’tis true, naught but a 
rushlight throwing out a fitful gleam into the night 
when we reached it. 

“As you value your life, Dan Rodney,” I whispered 

22 


RODNEY TELLS HIS STORY 


to my companion, “you will keep still that tongue of 
yours, and it does seem to me 'twill be best to be incu¬ 
rious about the name of this tavern!” 

“Aye, you're right, lad!" Dan agreed. “Do you 
lead in!" 

So I led him in; and Wily Williams, squint of eye, 
bearded, and dirty-faced where you could see him, 
leered at us scornfully as we entered. 

“So, young bantling," he said, “you come to spend 
the money ye have not got on ale? Ha-ha!" 

He laughed, as well he might, at his feeble joke, for 
he knew that never a drop of ale would I take. 

“Nay, Master Williams," I said, civil-like, since 
'twere best in such a place as the Flaming Cross to be 
civil to all men. ‘‘Nay, not so. I come to ask bed 
room for myself and—and my friend." I nodded at 
Dan Rodney, and Williams glared at him through 
bloodshot eyes. 

“Money, me lad, money?" he demanded of me. 

I caught just in time the look in Dan's eyes. I real¬ 
ized that he was about to burst out with something 
about money and sufficient to buy bed room. Maybe, 
Dan might have sworn he could buy the Flaming Cross 
itself! But Rodney knew what I meant, and kept a 
still tongue. 

“You do owe me, sir," I said, “sufficient for two 
beds this night," and I laughed a little as I said it. 
“ 'Tis too cold to sleep out there." I jerked my thumb 
towards the snow-night. 

23 




THE FLAMING CROSS OF SANTA MARTA 


‘‘He must be a poor sailorman who can’t pay for his 
own bed!” said Williams craftily, looking straight at 
Rodney, who, I saw, had difficulty in restraining him¬ 
self. “But, ’a well, ’tis fair dues you do suggest, and 
though there be but one bed, and that not the sweetest 
Christian ever slept in, ’tis yours atween ye!” 

“Thanks!” I said. “We’ll have it now!” 

“A rare good hurry ye do be in, the pair of you,” 
Williams told me. “Never to stay drink a jug. ’Tis 
like men who’d plot ye be!” 

Again he laughed. And the half-dr unken men sit¬ 
ting around the smoke-filled room—for I’ll have you 
know that although tobacco was not long come to Eng¬ 
land, ’twas used a-much, mostly by sailormen from 
across the seas—looked up and grinned. 

“A right proper plotter that boy ’ud make,” said 
one of them, and laughed loudly, in which I joined. 
’Twas safer to humor them so. “Drink o’ the mug, 
lad!” I refused, civilly, and he held it out to Dan 
Rodney, who drank deep—and apologized for having 
done so and having naught wherewith to replenish it. 

“Tush, mate,” said the drinker, “ ’tis nothing. In 
faith, ’twere raw goings if one sailorman can’t gi’ a 
sip to another! Out of a ship, mate?” 

“Aye,” Dan told him gruffly. “This many a day!” 

“Then ye be the sort o’ man I be looking for!” the 
other said, getting unsteadily upon his feet. “There’s 
a ship in th’ harbor now waiting for men. An you 
will come-” 


24 





RODNEY TELLS HIS STORY 


‘‘Whither goes it?’’ Dan asked, more, I took it, to 
humor him than for any real curiosity. 

“Still tongues, they say, be wise!” was the reply; 
and the man glanced around the room shiftily, as if 
he would see who might be listening unduly. 

He stooped over towards Dan and, leaning heavily 
on his shoulder, said, in a whisper that I for one did 
not hear, something that made Dan start. 

“Wilt come aboard, mate?” the man said then aloud, 
and I saw Dan shake his head. But also from where 
I was I saw him do something else—^he winked at the 
sailor, who, shrugging his shoulders, slouched away 
and dropped back on to the rough-hewn bench. 

“Ye be no seeker after work, mate,” he said, growl¬ 
ing—and then Williams beckoned me. He had been 
out of the room serving another noisy customer, at 
whose voice I had seen Dan Rodney jerk himself up. 

“To bed, lad!” Rodney said quickly. 

I followed, with Dan behind me, the landlord out of 
the farther door, and up creaking, well-worn stairs 
that led us to an attic in which Dan scarcely could 
stand erect without cracking his skull on the sloping 
ceil. 

Williams stuck a guttering light in a flagon-top, 
kicked the filthy-looking bed and leered at us. 

“A good night’s rest t’ye. ’Tis the best I can do 
for a small silver coin!” 

“Good night—and thankee,” Dan replied. And I 

25 




THE FLAMING CROSS OF SANTA MARTA 


wondered at him as I saw him, after the landlord had 
gone, examine carefully the door. 

“No key—no‘lock at all,” he whispered, coming back 
to me. “And we do need a key this night, lad!” 

“Why—what-” I began, but he clapped a hand 

over my mouth. 

“Bear a hand, lad,” he muttered. “Those boxes,” 
and he pointed to what I took to be sea chests stacked 
at one corner of the attic. “We’ll make our own lock, 
but ’tis careful and quiet we’ll have to be. Bear a 
hand!” 

Wondering still, but knowing that Rodney was not 
of the make of a man to be over-cautious without 
cause, I crept after him towards the chests, and to¬ 
gether we lifted one from its pile. 

“ ’Tis mighty heavy I” he growled. “But—gently, 
Roger, and we can do it 1” 

We did it. Indeed, we shifted no fewer than four 
of those great chests, laden with goodness knows what, 
to the door and piled them one on top of t’other, and 
I’ll wager me that none beneath stairs could have heard 
us as we did so. 

“And that’s that, lad 1” Dan said when it was done; 
and the look in my eyes asked the question on the tip 
of my tongue. “I like not th’ look of that friend 
the landlord,” he told me smilingly. “And, lad, 
besides that, there’s another I like less in this house, 
and-” 

“The sailorman?” I whispered, but he shook his 

26 





RODNEY TELLS HIS STORY 


head; and on the instant the recollection came to 
me. ‘‘The noisy braggart who came just now?” I 
asked. 

“The very one!” Dan told me. “Lad, ’tis that same 
rascal who clapped me ’cross th’ head and who came 
to Widow Sawkins’s! I caught a sight o’ him—maybe 
he did o’ me. ’Twere well to find a way by which to 
leave, ’cept the door, an it should be wise to go.” 

He moved across the attic to the window that was 
in the ceiling, a rough affair which pushed up, and 
would, as I could see, give a man even of Dan’s girth 
space to scramble through, an he could haul himself 
up. Dan pushed the half-glazed frame upwards, but 
’twould not stay—could not, since there was naught to 
hold it. Then he went over to the chests in the cor¬ 
ner and beckoned me to his side. Together we lifted 
another chest and placed it ’neath the window. 

“And that’s that!” he said again when it was over. 
“And now, lad, I don’t know whether you be tired, but 
I’m' not—and I do mean to keep awake to watch and 
listen!” 

“Dan Rodney,” I said quietly, “I know not what ’tis 
all about—leastwise, I know but little—but whatever 
it is, I’m in. We’re shipmates, as I’ll have you know, 
and if there be watch to keep I’m taking my share. So 
there I” 

“So ye shall, lad,” Dan said as quietly. “So ye shall, 
but ye’ll have first sleep. So there!” He grinned as 
he repeated my words of determination. “But ere 

27 




THE FLAMING CROSS OF SANTA MARTA 


you sleep, lad, I’ll be tellin’ ye somethin’, an ye can 
keep awake awhile.” 

‘‘Say on, Dan,” I told him. “But ’twere well to re¬ 
member I know naught o’ whether these cracked walls 
have ears.” 

For answer Dan Rodney blew out the light, but I 
felt him as he sat him down beside me where I had 
lain—not on the bed, mind you; a sight of it had been 
enough to make a man never want to sleep in bed again! 

Then he leaned over me, and for five minutes or more 
was whispering in my ear. And this is what he told 
me, as far as I can remember it across the years— 
the years in which so many things have happened that 
if those folk who write the stories of nations and kings 
and wars should say that in some things I am wrong, 
then I do say that in the real things I am right, and 
that the little things that are wrong do not matter. 

“Already have I told you something,” Dan began. 
“How that I’ve roved the seas and played soldier and 
slave on the Main with your father, God rest his soul. 
But there be other things a-plenty! Once, ’twas after 
your father did leave the Main to become again a city 
dweller, I did join me with a band of men under one 
Hal Cousins, who with several more did get stranded 
nigh San Juan when Master Drake-” 

“The great Drake—El Dragon?” I whispered 
eagerly, for I knew the tale of Hawkins and Drake, 
which last was dubbed the Dragon by the Dons. I 
minded how they had been dealt treacherously with by 

28 





RODNEY TELLS HIS STORY 


the Spaniards at San Juan Ulloa and well-nigh brought 
to the last harbor of all. “The Great Drake?’' 

“Aye, that same, Roger!” Dan told me, and I heard 
the sharp intake of his breath. “But listen, lad, to th’ 
end. Cousins was also a great man, though naught 
with Drake but a hand afore the mast. Yet, left 
stranded on the Main with that handful o’ men, he 
marched a-many a league along the coast, eluding cap¬ 
ture, and by the grace of heaven he did make friends 
with enemies of the Dons—thick-lipped slaves from 
Africa, who had fled from the mines. With them 
were white men—Englishmen, to wit, mind ye, lad, 
who too had ’scaped from captivity worse than death 
itself. All this I learned me afterwards. 

“How came I there? ’Twas thus: I had been 
galley slave in a Spanish ship which caught an English 
vessel setting into the river mouth where the one-time 
slaves were camped. That same ship was laden with 
much treasure lifted from Spanish holds, and was for 
careening ere setting course for home. Hidden 
amongst the trees along the coast the slaves saw the 
fight— a, bonny fight ’twas, too, lad, in which two well- 
matched ships battled all too well, so that not more 
than half an hour after the English vessel had gone 
sky-high, from a red-hot ball in her powder, the Span¬ 
iard, holed below water, plunged to her grave. Of the 
fight, lad. I’ll tell ye not now, nor of the horror of those 
of us who were slaves aboard the Don, neither of the 
sorry plight we were in, chained as we were when the 

29 




THE FLAMING CROSS OF SANTA MARTA 


ship went down. Nor can I tell ye how ’twas I got 
ashore with a chain-end dangling at an ankle. I must 
have been flung up by the sea, senseless, for when I 
came to ’twas to see black men and white dancing, like 
the devils they were in that moment, about dead men 
pierced with arrows and tied to trees. Spaniards they 
were, these last, saved, like myself, from the sea but 
paying the price of the slavery of their enemies. Pity? 
Nay, lad, there was no pity in me that day. Had I 
not suffered much at the hands of these same Span¬ 
iards? Bah!” 

Dan stopped awhile, as though he were watching 
again the scene which he was describing, and I do con¬ 
fess I shuddered, for I had heard many things many 
times from my own father of what had happened out 
on the Main, where, side by side with courage and 
wealth, vile deeds were done by men of all races, as 
though the air held poison that tainted honest, noble 
blood so that men became brutes. 

Presently Rodney went on again, and I, all too eager 
to hear, crouched myself close to him there in the dark¬ 
ness, while the wind outside ever and anon lifted the 
ceil window and let it down again with a crash that 
showered us with powdering snow. 

“Much there is that might be told, lad,” he said, 
“but why the need ? Except this: that from the Span¬ 
ish ship there were cast up during the days that fol¬ 
lowed, powder casks and muskets and provisions— 
also, Roger, a ship's gun. The sight of these things 

30 


RODNEY TELLS HIS STORY 


seemed to please the white men, who, when they dis¬ 
covered me for an Englishman, had welcomed me and 
done all they could for my comfort. I knew the rea¬ 
son for their pleasure a little later. Twenty whites 
there were besides myself; and one day they held them 
a council of war, and this is what happened. Lots 
were cast for a leader, and Hal Cousins was voted 
in. Then they talked o’ plans that set me gaping at 
them. They, with full a hundred black slaves, intended 
to march inland and sack no less a place than Santa 
Marta, in whose church was the Flaming Cross of 
which the whole Main spoke with bated breath, for was 
it not given by the Spanish king himself and blessed 
by the Pope, and did not the tale go—though, lad, I 
had not then, nor have I now, any more than th’ rest 
of those white men, any little faith in it!—that on the 
Flaming Cross hung the destiny of Spain herself? If 
the Cross be lost to Spain, so should Spain’s might 
depart!” 

“Old wives’ tales!” I whispered, and Rodney, hear¬ 
ing me, said: 

“So I say, lad, but not so the Dons—a man has but 
to give a piece of wood the blessing o’ the Church, and 
it becomes potent of good and powerful above the un¬ 
derstanding of man I Out there on the Main, at least, 
’twas believed by the Dons, and Hal Cousins did tell 
that Drake himself had meant to have it, but had failed. 

“ ‘But we’ll have it, men!’ Cousins had shouted at 
that council on the river bank, and shook a fist at the 

31 






THE FLAMING CROSS OF SANTA MARTA 


dead men tied to trees. Tosh for their fairy tale, but 
’tis a prize worth th’ getting for itself. And, besides, 
Santa Marta’s treasure house holds a-plenty for us, an 
we be bold enow! Those muskets, that powder, that 
cannon—i’ faith they be sent for our use 1’ 

“ ‘Much good be a cannon without shot,’ I ventured 
to say, and Cousins laughed aloud at me. 

“ There be other things than iron balls that a cannon 
can fire,’ he said. There be enough metal from the 
Dons’ ships to serve. Listen, men: ye have appointed 
me your captain. Will ye follow me to Santa Marta?’ 

“And they swore, lad,” Dan Rodney told me hoarsely, 
“that they would. And, Roger, that same they did— 
and with them went the black slaves and me. Another 
time, when th’ hours hang on our hands. I’ll tell the 
full story to you, but now, just this—we reached Santa 
Marta and were fortunate enough to find the soldiers 
gone otherwheres. We sacked Santa Marta for full 
three days, and things were done that I’ll never tell ye, 
Roger—vile things and wretched. And when we left, 
with the Flaming Cross, and mules laden with gold and 
silver, we were flushed with drink and victory.” 

Rodney ceased speaking again, and I waited impa¬ 
tiently for him to continue, which he did at last—and 
it was a different tale he had to tell. 

“Roger,” he said, “we set course for the coast again, 
with intent to make a port, and, lurking, bide our time 
to seize an unmanned vessel. Mad plan? Nay, lad, 
it has been done afore and will be many a time yet! 

32 



RODNEY TELLS HIS STORY 


But we did it not that time. We were but a day’s 
march from Santa Marta when our first night’s camp 
was attacked by horse-riding Dons. Fortunately we 
had taken up a strong position, and so held them apart 
for a while. Yet we knew what was the end. We 
were on the side of a ridge, which we would cross in 
the morning. For the night we watched, firing down, 
afraid to go on because our mule train was too large 
to tend in the darkness with foes at our heels. Nor did 
we relish going on without that which we had risked so 
much to get. 

^^Carne a lull,” Dan went on, ‘‘during which we held 
a council. It was decided that half a dozen of the 
mules, laden with precious stones and gold and the 
Flaming Cross—the greatest trophy of all—should 
essay to climb the ridge, and those of us chosen—six 
of us in all, and I among them, Roger—should find 
us a place in which to hide the treasure. Fools that 
men are, Roger! With little chance of escape—for 
leagues separated us from the coast, our goal!—we 
were yet bent on laying up treasure, like a thieving 
jackdaw! Natheless, we were foolish, yet this was 
done. And, Roger, true to our plighted word we—I 
and the five men with me—having found the place and 
in the light of the moon hidden our treasure, returned 
to those our friends who had sent us. By the light of 
the moon, too, Roger, I, who was leader of the little 
band, made us a map. It was for Cousins, our captain, 

33 




THE FLAMING CROSS OF SANTA MARTA 


or for whoever should be voted captain if he were 
killed/^ 

Again Dan Rodney stopped speaking, and again I 
waited breathlessly. 

"‘He was killed, lad,” he went on again after a while. 

“So were most other of us. Nine white men only 
* 

lived by the next moon, and less than half the blacks. 
For, with the coming of morning, we found that there 
were hundreds of Dons—not only down below, but also 
above us. We fought, lad, how we fought! But the 
end came, and I, Dan Rodney, was once again prisoner 
o^ the Dons, and held so for many a year, and-” 

“The map, Dan, the map?” I queried in a hoarse 
whisper. 

“Cousins saw it not, for he was dead ere I got me 
back to camp,” was the reply. “And there was no cap¬ 
tain amongst us, so I just kept it, as I must have done, 
and shall till the end. See, lad. Ell show it you, for 
came I not across half the world to find your father 
that he might know its meaning, and found I not you 
in his stead?” 

“Aye, Dan, that same ye did!” I muttered. “Is’t 
safe to show th’ paper here? ^Twill mean a light, 
and-” 

“Paper?” Dan’s voice was like that of a croaking 
frog, and I peered at him in the darkness, wondering * 
if the man had suddenly gone mad. “Paper? ’Tis 
on no paper, that map!” he said, and I heard him fum- 

34 







RODNEY TELLS HIS STORY 


bling with a tinde’* box. “The candle, Roger—where 
is it?’^ 

I twined my fingers round the bottle and pushed it 
across the filthy floor towards him. The next instant 
there was a sudden flash, and the drooping wick caught 
the flame. 

With eyes not yet accustomed to the light I peered 
at Dan and saw his fingers, which I remember even now 
were trembling not a little, fumbling with his jerkin 
and then open his shirts. 

And something else I saw—something that made me 
gape and exclaim: 

“The map—Dan—the map 

“Aye, the map, lad!” he breathed exultingly. “Cut 
into the flesh and rubbed, while the blood yet ran, with 
the juice of the dye-tree!” 

I crave you, you who read this my story, to believe 
that never was youth more staggered than I; never did 
man’s heart leap more to wonder than mine did when 
I saw, blue-traced on Dan Rodney’s chest, a crude 
sketching, in the center of which was a cross on which 
his finger rested as he said: 

“ ’Twas there, Roger, that we buried the Flaming 
Cross and-” 

He stopped suddenly, or if he did not stop speaking, 
then I did not hear his voice, for there came a roar 
which I knew even in that tense moment was that of 
a pistol. Dan’s hand, which had been pointing to the 
cross, fell away with a blood-red stream flowing from 

35 






THE FLAMING CROSS OF SANTA MARTA 


it; his chest was still bare, but my eyes were no longer 
looking at it. They had shifted with lightning speed 
towards the ceiling window, and there I saw an evil, 
bearded face framed through one of the unglazed panes, 
while through another was a hand holding a pointing 
pistol! 

Next instant I saw it not, for, with an oath, Dan 
Rodney smacked his injured hand down upon the can¬ 
dle, and I heard the bottle roll along the floor. 

The smell of powder was in my nostrils as I sprang 
to my feet; the sound as of a body sliding on the roof 
in my ears. 

“The same rascal who—” I began, but Dan Rodney 
cut me short. 

“The same! But there’s no time for speech!” he 
said. “Haul down those chests—’tis that way we will 
go. He’ll be lurking outside an we take the window. 
Devil take him for this shot hand!” 

What agonies Rodney suffered as he and I together 
lifted down again the chests we had so carefully piled 
up, I do not know; but I could judge a little from the 
revilings he occasionally poured out, and the little gasps 
as of pain. But we got the last chest shifted in due 
time, and swung open the door. Quietly we had 
worked, if quickly, lest we should awaken any in the 
house—fools as we were, indeed, in forgetting that 
that shot from the window must have been heard all- 
over, as the instant we set foot outside the door we 
realized, for down below stairs was a light, and up 

36 





RODNEY TELLS HIS STORY 


from there came the voices of men and the tread of 
feet on creaking steps. 

My hand gripped my father’s cutlass and pulled it 
from its sheath. I heard Dan Rodney’s panting 
breath, and then his voice in my ear: 

*‘An I die, lad, and you do live, copy you the map 
and go see—Drake himself with it!” 

I had no time to think what I thought afterwards 
—that if Dan died, so too might I, or, if I lived, little 
chance would I have of making copy of the map, since 
the hand that struck him down would no doubt be that 
of the man who sought the map! For the time being 
I was filled with other things—thoughts of what was 
to happen now in that moment. 

The answer to those questioning thoughts came all 
too soon. We watched, Dan Rodney and I, the as¬ 
cending light and saw it take the twisting turns of the 
crazy staircase. And then, with our backs to the wall, 
saw its flickering flame on the landing below us. It 
was a candle, guttering in the draught, held by Wily 
Williams, behind whom were three evil-faced men. 
And even as we saw them we heard the thud of a fall¬ 
ing something in the room behind us—the room that 
we had just left. 

Rodney swung round, and I saw his gleaming pistol 
thrust forward, saw the door open slightly; then there 
came a crack, and something whistled past my ears and 
buried itself in the wall. I knew then that it was not 
Dan’s pistol that had spoken, but one from below. But 

37 




THE FLAMING CROSS OF SANTA MARTA 


Dan’s spoke next instant as the door swung open wider 
—^and the fingers that curled round its edge flashed 
away, a howl of pain followed, and next moment Dan 
shouted: 

“Down the stairs, lad!” and was gone, leaping as, 
even in that moment, I could vision him leaping from 
an English deck on to a Dons’ ship in the thick of a 
smoking battle. 

Down after him I went, gripping my cutlass, and 
before us as we went the four men below scattered, the 
candle falling to the floor. Why, I do not know, but 
I stepped me carefully across the candle so not to put 
out its guttering light as I followed Dan, who, with 
an empty pistol butt, thumped the first head he met, 
which happened to be that of Wily Williams. I stopped 
not to think that this same Williams had been friend 
to me in the past; sufficient was it that here he was evi¬ 
dently leagued against a better friend—and friend of 
my dead father, too. Williams dropped with a cry, 
and I snatched up the pistol that his nerveless fingers 
loosed, by which time Dan was halfway down the next 
flight and a man had turned and was pulling his own 
lock. 

Now I would have you know that ofttimes my father 
had tutored me in the ways of arms of many kinds, 
not least the pistol, so that I was not only a good marks¬ 
man but a quick one; and, not knowing nor looking to 
see if that pistol which I held was ready and primed, 
I thrust it forward and pulled, even as I sprang to the 

38 




RODNEY TELLS HIS STORY 


stairs. Through the smoke I saw my foe go stag¬ 
gering back with outflung arms, and as he tumbled 
down the stairs he overset the man behind him, who, 
in his turn, did send heavily to the bottom his other 
comrade in roguery. 

And then Dan was at the bottom too, with me 
scarcely three steps behind him, and behind me a great 
light flaming. One glance showed me what had hap¬ 
pened. The candle which I had been so careful not to 
kill had set fire to something, and the tindery wood and 
filthy hangings had caught light. Even as I under¬ 
stood this there came the clatter of voices at the same 
time that pounding feet sounded on the stairs above. 
Dan it was who took in the meaning first; and Dan 
it was who, having picked up the pistols of the fallen 
men at his feet and found the one that was loaded, 
fired; so that he who had thrice attacked him in one 
night, and was even then aiming as he stood on our 
side of the fire, crumpled up and toppled headlong. 

^'Out, ladDan Rodney cried. 

We burst like a storm towards the door, with voices 
of women screaming behind us. We stayed not to see 
what women these were, nor to see who might be the 
men whose voices we also heard mingled with theirs. 
The great iron key was in the lock, and I turned it 
even as Rodney swung over the wooden bar that gave 
added security. Then the door was open and we were 
squelching through the inches-thick snow and battling 
against a howling wind that drove the ice-cold flakes 

39 





THE FLAMING CROSS OF SANTA MARTA 


into our faces. And I remember thinking that Dan 
Rodney had even yet his chest bared—the chest on 
which was cut the map that told where the Flaming 
Cross of Santa Marta, and much treasure else, were 
hidden in the far off Spanish Main. 

“Give me the lead, Dan!” I cried above the wind, 
as I pushed up towards him. 

“Take it, lad!” he said, half turning. Then, “That 
devil’s trap is consuming in its own fire!” he said; 
and glancing behind me I saw the red glare that I 
knew was the token of the fire at the tavern. 

“Heaven save those—” I began, but Rodney’s 
hoarse voice cut me short with: 

“Pray heaven it doesn’t! Mayhap we’ve done the 
work ourselves!” 

No more did we speak for a long time, during which 
I threaded my way, with Dan at my side, as best I 
could through vile alleys, cudgeling my brain to know 
whither to go. It was Dan who found his tongue first, 
and the answer to my problem. 

We were walking now, since we were far enough 
away from the blazing inn, though we could see the 
ruddy glare above the housetops. 

“That sailorman, Roger,” Dan said suddenly. “He 
who did whisper in mine ear.” 

“What of him?” I asked, through my chattering 
teeth. “I saw him not just now.” 

“Nor I,” Dan told me. “Know you what he said 
to me? Nay, of course not, since I did not tell you. 

40 




RODNEY TELLS HIS STORY 


This it was, Roger—that the ship he offered me berth 
in is the Roaming Death/* 

“Queer name for a ship,” I said. 

“What else is any ship that carries guns?” Dan 
asked. “And ’tis a good name, lad!” 

“Good enough to remember when once seen,” I told 
him. “r faith I did see that same ship only this morn¬ 
ing, riding at anchor, and thought me many things!” 

“Tell me those same another time, lad,” Rodney 
said with a laugh. “For now, an you can mind you, 
lead the way to it. For, lad, Tve a fancy that Fll do 
this night what I’d a mind to do on the morrow.” 

“Join her?” I asked, without a doubt but that was 
what he meant, and in that was I right. 

“Aye, Roger,” he said. “Many things there be that 
I must tell you yet, but they can wait awhile. This 

much I will tell you now- Go ye the way to the 

Roaming Death, lad?” he interrupted himself to ask 
me, and I told him that I was heading a course for the 
ship of the gruesome name. “It is good,” he went on. 
“I hold me in the lining of my breeches wealth enough 
to charter me a ship to go whither I would go, and such 
I did intend. But that was before those things hap¬ 
pened which have happened. Now I am afraid-” 

I laughed at him, and he growled at me. 

“An any man else called me afraid I’d run him 
through!” he admitted. “But, Roger, lad, I do confess 
that I be afraid now. Since that man with the beard, 
whom I know not, acted so, and since you told me the 

41 






THE FLAMING CROSS OF SANTA MARTA 


name of yon tavern”—he nodded back the way we had 
come—‘T do begin to think things; and one of them is 
that there be folk in England who know something of 
the Flaming Cross, and another that there be those who 
know of me. By the Queen’s ruff!” 

The exclamation was so sudden, and the voice that 
uttered it so fierce, that I knew on the instant that 
something untoward had come to Rodney’s mind. 

’Tis a good oath!” I told him, with a soft laugh. 

“Aye, a good oath on a bad subject I” was his retort. 
“Bah! to think that I did not know him before.” 

“Who?” I asked. “The man with the beard?” 

“Nay, not that rogue o’ the window,” he said, “but 
that paunched villain you called Williams.” 

“Wily Williams, of the Flaming Cross?” I said, 
and he growled. 

“ ’Tis a new name he’s taken. I mind me the squint 
of his eyes and the lost ear. He was Squint-Eye Hawke 
in those days!” 

“Tell on, but a little faster, Dan,” I said impatiently. 
“What mean you?” 

“What but that that rogue you call Williams was one 
o’ the white slaves under Cousins!” was the startling 
reply. “Aye, and more than that, he was one of those 
who went with me to hide the Flaming Cross! Bah! 
but I thought him dead. Did I not see him fall in the 
fight and lie for dead, and left for that by the Spaniards 
when they whipped us in a long train back to Santa 
Marta?” 


42 




RODNEY TELLS HIS STORY 


‘‘An you be right, Dan Rodney, he was not dead, 
but lived and escaped somehow,” I said, like a foolish 
child stating a very plain truth. “It does indeed seem 
that you be right somewhere, else why the tavern’s 
name? Yet an Williams, or Hawke, whatever be his 

name, knew the hiding place, why-” 

“Didn’t he go seeking it?” Dan finished for me. 
“Because, my lad, he was always a white-livered 
coward. Methinks he was glad to get him back to 
England, whence he had been shipped as a pressed man 
for his sins. Yet see you not this, lad, that even now, 
after all these years, he is of a mind to do something 
about the Flaming Cross? Else—faugh! Is he not 
leagued with that other, lad?” 

To this there was no answer, since it seemed like 
very truth. I did content myself with asking: 

“What, then, is it you do propose, Dan? You 

charter not a ship and-” 

“Join the Roaming Death he told me. “That 
sailorman did say that she is even now seeking men 
who’ve known the Main, for some mysterious purpose. 
Thither go I with her, for an she want men who know 
the Main, methinks ’tis to the Main she goes. Wilt 
come with me, an you can get berth?” 

“Whether in the Roaming Death or in ship of your 
own, Dan Rodney,” I told him, “there goes Roger 
Hampsley. And here be that same Roaming Death,” 
I said. 

We came to a halt on the quayside and I saw ship’s 

43 






THE FLAMING CROSS OF SANTA MARTA 


lights which, an the vessel had not moved since morn¬ 
ing, should be those of the Roaming Death. 

“Your hand on it, lad,” Dan said, and we gripped 
hands in the falling snow. Then, with a bellow like 
a storm bell, he hailed the ship. 

“Ship ahoy, there! Ahoy, Roaming Death!’* 

Came from the vessel a hail, much questioning and 
much answering, and much cursing as we heard the 
sounds of a boat being cast off; then a moving light 
’twixt the shadowy form of the ship and the quayside. 
Then presently the grating of a boat against the wooden 
piles, followed immediately by our clambering down 
and dropping into the boat. 

Five minutes later Dan Rodney and I stood, caps 
in hand, before a man seated in the low cabin of the 
Roaming Death, a man upon whose face the lanthorn 
cast a worrying light. Not many seconds did we 
stand there thus, for with a great shout Dan Rodney 
sprang forward, thrusting a horny hand out and 
saying: 

“By the Lord Harry, ’tis Ted Larby himself 1 Here’s 
the hand of Dan Rodney I” 

They shook hands like old friends, as indeed they 
were, and as they told me when they had finished. 
Friends who had roamed many seas shipmates. And 
now, as Larby told Dan, he was captain of a vessel, 
a position won by many a gallant battle. 

Many other things did Larby tell us that night, and 
many things did Dan tell him. But chief of all that 

44 




RODNEY TELLS HIS STORY 


I remember is this, given when the two men had 
drained many a beaker: 

*'So you’ve come aboard the Roaming Death, Dan?” 
Larby said. ‘‘Know you where she goes?” 

“Aye, an my imaginings be right,” Rodney told 
him. “That seaman o’ yours did say that you wanted 
men who knew the Main. Where else then but to the 
Main d’you go? Tell me that!” 

Larby laughed. 

“Shake, Dan,” and he thrust out his knarled hand 
again. “ ’Tis to the Main we go, and not us alone. 

For-” He hesitated, and stared at the door as 

though afraid lest there should be ears in it. Then he 
leaned forward. “Listen 1 We go to the Main in com¬ 
pany with Drake and Hawkins 1” 





CHAPTER III 

ANOTHER WHO KNEW THE SECRET 


Y OU, my masters, who read this tale of mine can 
have but little idea of the thrill that ran through 
me when I heard those words of Captain Larby 
of the Roaming Death; indeed, even I, who heard 
them, I, who in that moment knew that his words were 
a call to me to go a-venturing into the golden and 
mysterious west, do as I write have but little under¬ 
standing of what I really felt. Nevertheless will I 
try to tell something of it all. I mind me how he 
glanced around the gloomy smoke-filled cabin, as a 
dark plotter might do, and how his eyes sparkled as 
he breathed the magic words: 

“We go to the Main—and we go with Drake!” 
Words those, my friend, to make the heart of any 
man and any boy—aye, and I had almost said of any 
woman with good rich British blood coursing in her 
veins—leap joyously. For—I speak now of that sort 
of history that is to be found in broadsheets and in 
books—was it not Hawkins, the gallant Sir John, who 
had thrust his troublesome nose into the Dons' aifairs 
on the Main when the Spanishers reckoned they had 
that same place to themselves? And was it not 
Hawkins and Drake who had swooped along the Main 

46 


ANOTHER WHO KNEW THE SECRET 


and reaped rich harvest afore they were well-nigH 
destroyed, traitorously, at San Juan Ulloa? More, 
was it not Drake who had gone out to the west several 
times since then and, by plundering the Dons, sacking 
their towns and giving them to the flames, taken a rare 
revenge? Too, had not Franky Drake encircled the 
world, to come back and in due time help smash the 
mighty Armada of King Philip? Aye, I tell you the 
very thought of going a-voyaging, whether only down 
to Spain or perchance to the Main itself, was to me 
like wine to a man, and I sprang to my feet. 

‘‘Captain Larby,'^ I said, scarce able to speak for my 
panting breath: “an you want a ship’s boy to scrub 
the decks or carry cook’s slops, I pray you give me 
chance of it!” 

“Steady, Roger!” Dan Rodney told me, laying a 
hand upon my arm. “Sit you down and leave this 
work to me!” 

“There’s no need for you to do any work, Dan,” 
Larby said. “I see that the boy has a mind to go 
whither you go, and if so be he wants a berth, why, 
there’s my hand on’t.” 

He gripped my poor hand in a fist that was like iron 
itself, and ’twas all I could do to keep myself from 
crying aloud. 

“Thank you, sir,” I said, “both for the handgrip and 
for the offer you give me—the offer that I accept.” 

Both Larby and Rodney laughed at my words, and 
thereupon Dan fell to telling the captain who I was, 

47 




THE FLAMING CROSS OF SANTA MARTA 


and how he had found me, and many more things— 
though not a word did he say, FlI have you know, of 
the Flaming Cross, from which I gathered that how¬ 
ever great a shipmate Larby was, he was nevertheless 
not one to whom, for the time being at any rate, Dan 
was inclined to give news of his project. 

^^Methinks ye were rather in a hurry to get aboard, 
Dan!” Larby said, after a while, and between gulps 
from the bowl before him. 

‘‘So we were, cap’n,” said Dan, “so we were, and 
so would ye have been. I’ll warrant me, an you had 
been in our shoes. To-morrow was the time I’d fixed 
to join you, but—well, Ted Larby—^beg pardon, cap’n!” 
and he grinned at the skipper on the other side of the 
table. “Well, cap’n, we did fall foul of harbor thieves 
and rogues, and since the night was unfriendly too, 
and we knew not whither to go, we did decide to come 
hither. So here we are.” 

“Where ye are welcome, shipmate,” Larby said. 
“One more dip,” and he handed over the bowl. “Here’s 
to Franky Drake and a blustering sweep down the 
Main I” 

I tell you that although I drank not of that toast, I 
said it with just as much fervor as those two men; and 
then Larby bellowed out a call which brought a dwarfed 
and hunchbacked, villainous-looking fellow slouching 
into the cabin. 

“Ho, there, Crouchy!” Larby said. “Here be the 
new gunner’s mate and his boy. Take them to their 

48 





ANOTHER WHO KNEW THE SECRET 


quarters—and forby it may be as well that ye pass the 
word that he’ll be a fool who crosses Dan Rodney.” 

“Aye, aye, cap’n,” Grouchy muttered, pulling his 
oiled forelock, and then held open the cabin door for us. 

We passed out into the dimly lit passageway, and 
so to the stinking, clammy ’tween decks that, already 
crowded with men, was to be our living place. 

“Pish, lad!” said Dan, as he saw my nostrils twitch 
and my chest heave against the atmosphere that met 
us. “Ye’ll be used to’t ere long. Get you to sleep 
now! Ye need it!” 

It was the truth, indeed, so true was it that although 
I felt me sicken as I laid me down, I was soon in a 
state when nothing mattered; blessed sleep came to 
me and held me until a hundred and one noises awoke 
me, and I found Dan Rodney looking down at me with 
a grin on his face. 

“Up wi’ ye, Roger!” he said. “There be a boatload 
o’ men come aboard, and what think you ?” 

“Scarce have I driven sleep far enough away to 
think,” I told him, with a short laugh. “Think for me!” 

“They brought news—news that idle chatterers give 
and of no set purpose—that last night there was a 
tavern burned to th’ ground, one named the Flaming 
Cross, an you know of it.” 

He laughed with me, but suddenly his face assumed 
gravity again. 

“Listen, lad,” he said. “That rascal Williams or 
Hawke was burned, as they do burn witches. I asked 

49 




THE FLAMING CROSS OF SANTA MARTA 


some questions, careless like, which brought me 
answers that he alone was thus ended: all else in th^ 
house seem ’counted for.” 

“Then-” I began, but Roger nodded and said: 

“That villain who’s dogged me^—heaven knows how 
long—and that, lad, is a thing that worries me not a 
little, that and how ’twas known to him that I had 
the map, that I was indeed Dan Rodney, lately come 
from the Main—that villain, I say, though he be 
wounded, is alive. Therefore, methinks we did but 
right in coming aboard this ship in the night. But 
come above, lad: although there be no fighting in an 
English port, there be a-plenty to do; and as I have 
found out, we do set sail to-day for Plymouth, there 
to meet-” 

“Drake!” I exclaimed, with a sharp intake of breath, 
and Roger nodded that that was so. 

I broke me my fast on rough victuals and then 
hurried up on to deck, where I found scores of men 
doing, seemingly, hundreds of tasks. Son of a sea- 
rover though I was, yet had I never been aboard a big 
vessel; my father, I think, had of set purpose held 
me back from that, lest the taint of the sea got into 
my blood and sent me a-roving as he had done, but 
I do tell it now, that when I watched the sails unfurled 
and belly out to the breeze, and felt the movements of 
the Roaming Death, something in me sprang to life 
and I knew that it must be the legacy that my father 
had given me in my blood. I would not have changed 

50 






ANOTHER WHO KNEW THE SECRET 


my place in that ship for a seat even beside Queen Bess. 

I was going whither my father had gone before me, 
and I wanted nothing better of life. 

It was while I was thinking such things as these 
that something happened to distract my attention from 
myself. I was standing with Dan Rodney beside the 
gun that was to be our especial care, and stroking it 
gently and proudly—ah me! I was a fire-eating youth 
in those days, and never more so than at that moment 
—when, of a sudden, the ship being many yards from 
the shore, a man sprang on to the port side within 
three yards of me, and before I realized what was afoot, 
he had gone diving overboard. 

‘'Man—overboard!” I cried. 

There was a rush of many feet; men craned their 
necks over the side, expecting, I doubt not, to see 
some one drowning. Instead, they saw, and I too 
saw, a man swimming with strong strokes and making 
good way, despite his clogging clothes, straight for the 
shore. 

"Who was’t?” a sailorman asked me, but I shook 
my head, and he, not having seen me before, and 
knowing that I was therefore a newcomer, turned to 
another. The answer was that the man who had thus 
gone overboard was one of those who had come aboard 
but a little while before the ship weighed anchor. 

"Art not going to save him?” I hazarded; but the 
men around laughed. 

"There be no order to lower a boat!” said one of 

51 





THE FLAMING CROSS OF SANTA MARTA 


them. ‘‘That man, it would seem, has changed his 
mind and likes better dry land to the stinking hulk 
we’re on! Let him go, an he want to! He’s in no 
danger of drowning—see!” 

True enough was that, for the man was by now 
within easy distance of the shore. I caught me sight 
of Dan Rodney at that moment and moved over 
towards him. 

“One man grown tired o’ things already, Dan,” I 
told him, and then stopped because I noticed the queer 
look on his face. “What is’t?” I asked, at last. 

“Lad,” he whispered, taking me by the arm and 
drawing me aside, “I like it not!” 

“To wit, what?” I asked him. 

“Why, Roger, that man was one of those in the 
tafern when we did enter last night. I saw him not 
when he came aboard, but a little ago we met—and he 
did give a start that made me wonder and cudgel my 
mind to think where ’twas I had seen him. Then, I 
knew: and now—Roger, I like it not!” he repeated. 
“Why should the fellow join ship and then desert in 
such fashion?” 

“Why?” was all I could ask, leaving it for Rodney 
to give his own answer. 

“Grown cautious I am, Roger!” Dan told me. “But 
I do feel it in th’ bones that he would go carry the 
news of our being here to some one who will pay well 
for it!” 

“Thine enemy!” I exclaimed, and Dan nodded 

52 




ANOTHER WHO KNEW THE SECRET 


gravely. “Little harm that can do us now/' I said, 
then. “We’re off and away to-” 

“Where first but to Plymouth?” Dan asked me. 
“And then—think you that the fleet will sail all of a 
sudden because we arrive? An there be intent to find 
us, there will be plenty of time, never fear. Nay, lad, 
I like it not. But there—Dan Rodney has weathered 
many a storm bigger than the one he’s thinking may 
arise. Stout hearts and clear heads—that’s what we’ll 
be a-keeping, Roger! How like you the feel of a deck 
beneath the feet?” 

“I feel—I feel,” I began, soberly, then eagerly: “I 
doubt not, Dan, that I feel like that dear father of 
mine felt many a time! There be no finer place under 
heaven, to be sure I” 

Dan laughed at me. 

“Laugh while ye can, lad—laugh while ye can!” he 
said, and I wondered what he meant. 

Yet, ah me, it was not long before I knew: it was 
not long before I would have thanked him who could 
have put me back on shore. 

Strangely enough, down the Bristol Channel all was 
well—it was when we swung round into the open sea 
and a great wind caught us and seemed to hurl us 
backward, that I found me possessed of a stomach 
that liked not things. ... I fought against it all, but 
I fought a losing battle: and losing, dropped into 
kindly unconsciousness. Afterwards, days afterwards, 
when the Roaming Death had outlived and passed the 

53 





THE FLAMING CROSS OF SANTA MARTA 


storm and was sailing within sight of the Devon coast, 
Dan Rodney told me that ’twas the worst time that 
he had ever known in English seas, though naught to 
what he’d seen in other parts. 

‘^Heaven save us, Roger,” he told me, ^‘but I did 
think you’d come to the end of the voyage at the 
start of’t.” 

'T, too, Dan,” I said, rocking yet on my legs. ‘T 
feel I’d like to see the water and feel the touch of God’s 
air on my face now.” 

^‘Come up, then, lad,” he said gently, and helped me 
along and piloted me to the taffrail, whence, holding 
on, for I own shamedly that I was still quaking and 
uneasy of stomach, I watched the creaming wake of 
the ship. 

And as I watched, I found me wondering when next 
I should see Bristol that we had left these days before: 
and wondered, too, what the unknown west held for 
me. Fire mounted to my face, and blood to my head. 
I had forgotten all about Dan Rodney’s Flaming Cross. 
One thing only held me, and that was that soon— 
‘‘heaven grant it be very soon!”—I prayed—I should 
be going into the alluring west, in company with as 
gallant sailormen as ever trod wooden deck. 

The Roaming Death dipped her flag as she ran to 
anchor among a crowd of weather-beaten ships which 
were, one and all, in the hands of the carpenters and 
the painters, taking on to themselves gay colors and a 
freshness that made the heart feel good. 

54 


ANOTHER WHO KNEW THE SECRET 


I was standing at the side with Dan Rodney when 
we thus ran to anchor, and suddenly my friend, laying 
a hand upon my arm, pointed out towards a mighty 
vessel that towered above us—we like a cockleshell 
beside it. 

’Tis his ship, lad—’tis his!’’ he exclaimed, and 
glancing at him, I saw his rugged face smothered with 
tense emotion. 

‘‘Whose, Dan Rodney?’^ I asked him, staring across 
at a vessel which had her name painted on her side: 
Defiance I read, and I supposed that it must be one 
commanded by an old-time comrade of Rodney’s. 

“Whose should it be but—Tfaith!” he ejaculated, 
“there he is himself!”—^and I saw a man, stumpy of 
build, with well-trimmed pointed beard, walk across the 

poop of the vessel. “Lad-” Dan went on, eagerly, 

“I tell ye that ship is Drake’s and that man is Franky 
Drake himself!” 

A short laugh from Dan Rodney brought me to 
myself a moment or so later, and he said, clapping me 
on the shoulder: 

“Aye, lad, ’tis good to see him, and better still to 
know that we shall be sailing under his command: for 
Cap’n Larby does tell me that when all the work on 
the ships is done we shall, and other ships that shall 
join the fleet, leave for the west. All must be fitted 
out first and then ’tis away we go! Ah—see you? 
Drake goes ashore, the whither we too shall go 
presently, lad, for a stretch o’ the legs.” 

55 





THE FLAMING CROSS OF SANTA MARTA 


I saw, indeed, that Francis Drake had descended to 
a longboat riding beside his ship, and that he was 
being rowed across shorewards. 

There came at that moment the sound of a shrilling 
whistle, and I knew that it was the signal for hoisting 
out a boat—a boat into which, presently. Captain Larby 
went, after having agreed that Dan Rodney and I 
should go ashore as well: the which we were not loath 
to do, I can assure you. 

When we got there Rodney and I detached ourselves 
from the rest of the company, and I, who had never 
been thus far from Bristol before, did request of my 
companion that he take me on to the Hoe itself that I 
might gaze from there out on to the Channel up which 
that pricked-bubble of an Armada had sailed not so 
many years agone. 

Wherefore, Dan did so, and I fancied—how a youth's 
mind does run to fanciful things!—that I could see 
those great men, Drake among them, playing their 
bowls the while a ship flew before the wind, and that 
man, Flemming, did hasten to give warning of the 
coming of the Armada: and hear me those words of 
Drake about playing the game first and beating the 
Dons after. 

‘‘ ’Tis sworn that it is true, lad!" Dan Rodney said 
seriously, when I did mention the matter to him, and 
as he spoke another voice sounded, so that I turned 
and could have dropped me to the earth because it was 

56 




ANOTHER WHO KNEW THE SECRET 


the voice of Drake himself, and the great man stood 
before me. 

*‘Well, well, young sir,” the Admiral said: “whether 
’tis all true or not, this much is true—those Dons were 
beaten that day!” 

“Sir,” I said, bowing to him, “that do I know, and 
this also: that you. Sir Francis Drake, did no little 
towards that beating!” 

“Ho, ho! young man!” the Admiral said, laugh¬ 
ing, “so you know me!” 

“Sir,” I said, “I know you because this my good 
friend, Dan Rodney, did tell me who you were.” 

“Rodney?”—I saw Drake pucker up his brows a 
bit, as though trying to recall something. Suddenly 
he shot out a hand which snatched at Dan’s jerkin, 
and before Rodney realized what was afoot, had torn 
it open, and scrambled the man’s shirt open too. ''That 
Rodney!” Drake exclaimed, as before his eyes was 
revealed the blood-scratched map. “Cover it, man, and 
come ye aboard the Defiance this night. I would have 
word with you.” 

And then he was gone, leaving us staring at each 
other like two foolish yokels. 

“Well, sooth, that’s passing strange!” said Dan at 
last. “How came it that he knew this?” 

“That you should know of better than I,” was all I 
could say. 

“Lad, I begin to think there be too many people who 
know of this map!” Dan Rodney said. “And so, 

57 




THE FLAMING CROSS OF SANTA MARTA 


Roger, I’m thinking that ’twere well to wear a shirt 
shaped so that snatching hands cannot lay bare what’s 
written on this chest of mine. We’ll go buy me one 
even now!” 

I laughed at him, but nevertheless knew that he was 
serious, and, knowing how much store he set by that 
map, and what it meant for him, I was not surprised. 
We went us to a dealer and there Rodney bought him 
the shirt he needed, and so impetuous and importunate 
was he, that what did he do else but ask the man 
whether it was convenient that he should put on the 
shirt there. 

“An you mind not changing your shirt in th’ room 
where another man is—seaman like yourself, my 
master,” the dealer told him, “then you can do it.” 

At Rodney’s nod, he led us through his stuffy shop 
and to a door which he opened, a door that led into a 
none too light room, since it was now getting towards 
the twilight and there was no light in the room except 
what came from a window in the far end of it. 

“Thankee,” said Rodney, stepping in, and I after 
him. 

As I turned to close the door, but with my face still 
looking towards the window, I saw a form thrown up 
against the light outside—the form of a man who 
even then had his arms thrown over his head as he 
stripped himself of clothing. 

“ ’Twill not be long in the doing of this, lad,” Dan 
Rodney said to me. 


58 



ANOTHER WHO KNEW THE SECRET 


As he spoke I saw the man at the other end jerk 
himself up from his half bent position and realized 
that he was staring at us from between the neck-hole 
of his shirt. Then, he suddenly turned so that his 
face was away from us. I took no further notice of 
him, nor did Rodney, who proceeded to divest himself 
of jerkin and shirts and to don the new clout that 
he had just bought. Dan, even in that dim light, was 
caution itself, for he turned his back on the other man 
in the room, while I, heedless altogether of the man, 
sat me down on a chest and lolled the while Rodney 
busied himself. 

But there came a moment when I heard something 
that made me turn my head sharply, something that 
I, with my knowledge of firearms taught me by my 
father, took to be the cocking of a pistol; and even 
as I looked at the man, the while that Dan Rodney had 
his arms half in and half out his new shirt, I saw 
the outlined shape of the other man’s arm against 
the window light—and springing to my feet, pulled out 
my cutlass and flung myself between him and Dan. 

For I had seen that the man’s thrust-out hand held a 
pistol, pointing at my comrade. 

Merciful was heaven in that moment, for I heard the 
click of the hammer, but naught else except the mut¬ 
tered imprecation of the man, and then I was upon 
him, my cutlass slashing at his arm so that he uttered 
a sharp cry and fell away, even as his pistol dropped 
to the floor. 


59 




THE FLAMING CROSS OF SANTA MARTA 


“At you for a murdering rogue!” I bellowed, and 
thrust at him again, but he was too quick for me. 

He turned and jumped full at the window, which 
shattered before his impact and tinkled into a thousand 
bits as he disappeared through the opening and I after 
him, leaving Dan Rodney shouting at me as he leaned 
half out of the broken window with only his new 
shirt and his breeches on. 





CHAPTER IV 
STRANGE MEETINGS 


I WASTED no time; I was bent on following my 
man, whom I could see running swiftly and who 
then disappeared round the corner. Folk rushed 
from near houses, roused by the smashing of the glass, 
and when I dashed me down the street it was with half 
a hundred people behind me. 

Fortunate I was that evening, for a time, since turn¬ 
ing the corner, I did see my quarry not far in front 
and still running; there were no side streets for him to 
turn into, so it seemed, and, fleet-footed as I was, I 
soon overtook him and had him with his back to a 
wall, and lunging back at me as I flung myself upon 
him. 

A rare fight that was, I remember: no mean hand 
with the sword was I—my father had taught me not 
a little; but so, too, was my foe a good man, and I was 
hard put to it not merely to get within his guard, but 
to defend myself. 

Around us the crowd herded, and a babble of tongues 
sounded in my already buzzing ears. I was excited, 
and yet, after the first few moments, I got a grip upon 
myself and my brain cleared. 

‘‘A cool head and a keen eye!’* I minded me my 

6i 


THE FLAMING CROSS OF SANTA MARTA 


father’s oft-spoken words, and as I did so, lunged in 
with a pretty trick that he had taught me too—a trick 
which got my blade, with a lightning dart, across the 
man’s clenched fingers as they gripped his own sword, 
so that he dropped his steel with a howl of pain. 

And then, just as I thought I had him, that foolish 
mob, which had been making so much of commotion, 
were my undoing from that very cause; watchmen had 
turned out and forced their way through the crowd, or 
tried to do so, with the result, my masters, that in the 
confusion my enemy did get mixed up with them, and 
wounded though he was, escaped. The watch seized me. 

“Over young ye be for a cutthroat!” one of them 
said to me, and I could have spitted him as he spoke, 
but that wisdom came to me. 

“No cutthroat am I!” I told him angrily. “That 
man it is, an ye would find the cutthroat who caused 
all this-” And I told them quickly what had hap¬ 

pened—though there was one thing that I kept to 
myself, and that was, that he whom I had attacked 
thus, was none other than the very rogue who had 
fallen upon Dan Rodney on that white night in Bristol: 
for I had recognized him even as we were fighting! 

“A likely enough story,” said the watchman. “Ho, 
there, where be t’other?” 

But none there was who could say what had happened 
to mine enemy, though there were folk ready to say 
that they had seen me make the attack upon him! 
Whereat, the watch did laugh and swear that they 

62 





STRANGE MEETINGS 


were right in calling me cutthroat. Whereat, too, was 
I more angry, and was like to have fallen upon them 
had not one of them said: 

*^An you speak truth, take us to that shop where 
you say this man sprang through th’ window.” 

“Right ready will I do that!” I said, and then, for 
the life of me, could not recall to mind the way that 
I had come. 

“Hurry!” said the watchman. “Hurry—an you 

speak the truth at all!” 

“What truth is’t you want to know, my masters?” 
bellowed a voice, and my heart leaped for joy, for it 
was the voice of Dan Rodney. 

“Dan!” I exclaimed rapturously, and fell to telling 
him what had happened. 

“An these good men want the truth,” he said, then, 
“let them come with me: I know where the shop is, 
and they can see for themselves the broken window 
and the dropped pistol!” 

Whereat, there began a procession, and a noisy one 
it was, too, towards the dealer’s, whom we found 
bemoaning his broken window, and the fact that the 
man who had disappeared had gone without paying 
for the new clothes that he had bought, leaving only 
his old tattered ones behind him. As for the watch, 
we soon had them pacified, and a coin or two slipped 
carefully by Dan Rodney sent them away rejoicing, 
and thereby leaving Dan Rodney and me to quiet 

63 




THE FLAMING CROSS OF SANTA MARTA 


the dealer, which Rodney did by paying him for the 
broken window, for, as he said: 

‘‘But that the rogue jumped through it maybe Vd 
have been killed by him, so in a manner o’ speaking, 
master, I owe you a duty.” 

As he spoke, he was fingering the cast-off clothing 
of the rogue who had fled, and, doing so, felt some¬ 
thing in a pocket of the breeches. Dan drove his hand 
into the pocket, and when it came out there was a 
parchment of some kind in it, the which, by the rush- 
light the dealer had brought in, he examined awhile. 
Then, without saying a word, he placed it in his own 
pocket and proceeded to go through all the other pockets 
of our enemy’s clothing, though nothing else did he 
find. 

“I fear me that they will give you but little recom¬ 
pense for your new clothes, master,” Dan said casually 
to the dealer as he flung the clothing on to the floor 
again. “For which am I sorry. An you will lead us 
out we will away to our ship, for it is getting dark!” 

The man thereupon, still bemoaning his ill fortune, 
showed us into the street and we hastened ourselves 
down to the harbor. The while we did so I said: 

“Tell me, Dan Rodney, what ’twas ye found in 
that pocket?” 

“Something, lad,” he said, “that our friend would 
not have lost, methinks, for much gold!” 

“Which tells me not anything,” I retorted, and he 
laughed back at me. 


64 




STRANGE MEETINGS 


‘‘Lad, ye are as impatient as ye are inquisitive,” he 
said. “But Til tell ye that parchment is naught else 
than a written account, ill-spelled, ’tis true, so that I 
have not yet understood it all, of how six men did, 
years agone, bury gold and silver and the Flaming 
Cross on a hillside on the Main! And ’tis signed by 
your friend Williams of Bristol 1” 

“Heaven save us,” I said. “Are we ever to be 
pestered by-” 

“I feel it in the bones of me,” Dan put in, “that as 
long as that man, whoever he is, lives, we shall be 
pestered by him, but, an we prove as able to take care 
of ourselves as we have this day, we need not fear too 
much! But speak not of it now, lad, let’s wait until 
weVe read the parchment later. We be nigh late for 
the returning boat, methinks!” 

By this time we were at the place where we had 
landed, and to our joy found the boat of the Roam¬ 
ing Death still there. Rodney asked if Captain Larby 
had yet gone aboard, and was told he had not, but that 
a messenger had come down to say that he would be 
there in about an hour’s time, being detained on pressing 
business. 

“I fancy I know what that business is!” Dan said 
to me, with a short laugh. “Larby was ever a man 
for the bowl! Lad, thou mayst kick me for an unmind¬ 
ful fool—since I did forget that we have an engage¬ 
ment with Sir Francis Drake!” 

65 





THE FLAMING CROSS OF SANTA MARTA 


I, too, had forgotten it in the excitement of affairs, 
and now wondered how we were to get to the ship. 

But Dan Rodney was never at a loss. 

‘^An hour, you say?’^ he asked the man in the boat, 
“ere the captain does return? Well, then, there is a 
silver coin for you an you will take us over to the 
Defiance/' 

The mention of the ship’s name seemed to strike 
the sailorman dumb for a minute, and all he could do 
was to stare at us as the light from his lantern shone 
into our faces. Then, he burst out with it, sneering 
as he spoke: 

“Right well is it that two common sailormen go 
a-visiting the Admiral himself!” 

“Nonsense, my good man!” said Rodney. “There 
be a friend aboard the Defiance with whom I would 
speak. The silver coin is-” 

“Mine, an you keep your word!” the sailor said, and 
next moment we two were in the boat with him, he 
tugging at the oars, and Rodney setting the course. 

That course took us in a diagonal from where we 
started, and some thirty yards away we came across 
another boat with two men in her, one rowing and 
the other sitting peering into the gloom, as I could 
see, though I saw not his face. 

We passed the boat, which was not going very fast, 
and presently saw the dim mass of another nearer in 
to the shore than we. Glancing behind me, for what 
reason I know not, I saw the first boat suddenly shoot 

66 





STRANGE MEETINGS 


forward a little, then swing so that its course was 
between us and the other craft, and, as if by accident, 
the lantern on the first boat dropped suddenly into 
the water. 

“Bid the man hold on to his oars!” I whispered to 
Dan. “There be something passing strange, surely, 
in all this,” and I told him quickly what I had seen. 

Ere I had finished, my eyes watching the two boats, 
saw them nigh upon each other, and then above the 
sound of splashing oars and of oars in the rowlocks 
came the report of a pistol, and I saw a flash. Next 
instant, the two boats had crashed into each other, 
and our own rower, at a word from Dan, pulled hard 
as Dan steered a course towards the muddle. 

It took us not long, either, to reach the spot, and 
there we found that one of the boats, that which had 
held the two men alone, had a hole in her and was 
even then sinking, while the other was in confusion as 
the impact had sent her occupants tumbling together, 
and above the noise I heard a voice that I had heard 
once before that day, that of Francis Drake himself. 

“Ho, there!” he was shouting, “seize you that 
villain!” and I knew that he was referring to whoever 
it was who had fired the shot, and since I had seen it, 
I knew that it had come from the other boat. Whereat, 
as you may believe, I swung aloft our own lantern and 
peered into that same boat to find only one man in it, 
and he vainly trying to get away from the restraining 
hands of a man in Drake’s boat, who, craning over the 

67 




THE FLAMING CROSS OF SANTA MARTA 


side, had him well secured. For a moment all was 
confusion. 

^^There was another \” I cried, and swung around my 
lantern, seeking the man and saw something black on 
the surface, something that I knew to be a swimming 
man. 

Again you will believe me when I say that I shouted: 

‘‘After him—there he is!” and Rodney, at the tiller, 
peered into the darkness the while our oarsman pulled 
as he had not pulled us before, and so brought us nigh 
up with the man who, swimming sometimes on the 
surface and sometimes below, was, as I could tell, no 
mere learner in the art. Truly I had felt that we should 
not catch him before he reached shore, which had been 
but twenty yards away when we started after him, and 
on this he had no doubt counted. As ’twas, we only 
came up with him when he was little more than five 
yards from the land, and the tide being in, he could 
do naught but swim instead of scrambling out on his 
feet, in which case he must have escaped us. Never' 
theless, I was not for allowing him to get away and at 
risk of upsetting the boat made a spring that dropped 
me into the water, knocking our light from its hold 
as I did so. Thereupon I struck out after him, seizing 
him by rare good fortune by an ankle, and dragging 
him beneath the water. Then, thanks be, Dan Rodney, 
too, entered the water, and between us we did get our 
man. 

It took us not long to get him into our boat, and then 

68 




STRANGE MEETINGS 


to row back with him to where we could see the bobbing 
lights of Drake’s craft. 

^Hast got him?” I heard Drake ask, and Rodney 
told him that we had. 

“Then fling the rogue in here!” shouted Drake. 
“We’ll hang him at the yardarm for a murderous 
rascal I” 

“An it please you, sir,” said Dan Rodney, “we’ll not 
trouble to load your Excellency’s boat with this scum, 
since we do be going to the Defiance/' 

“Ho, ho! ye do!” cried Drake. “For what, an I 
may ask you?” 

“To keep an engagement that you yourself was 
pleased to make with us,” Dan told him. “On the 
Hoe this afternoon!” 

“I’faith—I do remember your voice, man!” Drake 
said, and I, even in that moment, did note that he men¬ 
tioned not Dan’s name, and found myself wondering 
why. Then, Drake spoke again: “Bring you the 
rascal—we have his companion in sin! We’ll find out 
who they be!” 

Which words set our rower at his oars again, and so 
the two boats came alongside Drake’s ship. Within a 
little while, Drake having gone aboard first, we were 
all on the deck, Drake’s seamen having insisted on 
hoisting the prisoners up, one of them conscious and 
the other still senseless: we had done naught for him 

69 




THE FLAMING CROSS OF SANTA MARTA 


till then, neither had we been able to see him since we 
had no lantern, ours lying at the bottom of the Sound. 

Cold I was and shivering, with my clothes clinging 
to me, and dripping water on the deck as I stood there, 
waiting for the seamen to get the captives aboard. The 
chattering of my teeth seemed tremendously noisy to 
me, but it was not so noisy that I did not hear Drake 
say quietly to Rodney: 

‘‘Dan Rodney, come you below, you and that young 
companion of yours, and get you those wet clothes 
off ye: then would I have word with you.” 

Thereupon, a man standing near by did lead Dan 
and me away, and, pressing us to drink from a steaming 
bowl, did also take from us our clothes and hand us 
towels with which to rub ourselves dry. Nay, he gave 
us, too, other clothes to wear, the while, as he said, 
our own should be dried ready for us. 

Scarcely had we done this ere a man put his head in 
at the cabin door and said: 

“An you be ready, his Excellency would have you 
come, my masters.” 

Whereat, as I need scarcely say, I for one jumped 
to my feet and followed him, Dan hard upon my heels. 
I gave me way, however, a moment later to my comrade, 
saying: 

“F faith, Dan, one would think ’twas I and not you 
whom the Admiral needs!” 

Dan laughed softly, and next moment, almost, our 
guide struck upon a door, and at a word from within, 

70 




STRANGE MEETINGS 


did throw it open and pilot us in, where we found 
in a splendidly appointed cabin the Admiral himself, 
together with several other men in rich garments, and 
standing, like sullen dogs and cowed, two others—^both 
of them dripping wet. 

And I would have you know that never did man get 
greater shock than I—unless it were Dan Rodney 
himself—when I saw that one of them was none other 
than the man whom I had fought and wounded such 
a little while before in that street behind the Hoe! 

The moment that Dan Rodney set eyes upon that 
bedraggled and downcast figure standing in Drake’s 
cabin, and recognized it as that of the man who had 
several times attacked him, I thought me that despite 
the presence of the great Admiral he would hurl himself 
upon his mysterious enemy. For, standing beside him, 
I felt his form stiffen, and glancing at him, saw him 
move as though he would spring forward. 

*‘Hold, Dan!” I whispered quickly, laying a hand 
upon his arm. 

The words and the touch served to restrain him. 
Whereupon, he stood staring at the man, the while 
that Drake, as I saw, looked from one to the other 
of them. 

Then the Admiral spoke. 

^‘Look ye, Master Rodney, ’tis the man whose hand 
you and your young comrade did prevent from doing 
me ill, and for that do I thank you.” 

** ’Tis a thing that I am honored to have done, sir, 

71 




THE FLAMING CROSS OF SANTA MARTA 


and so, too, my friend Roger Hampsley,^^ said Rodney 
handsomely, and I flushed as he spoke. Also, I saw 
when I glanced up at Drake again that he was quizzing 
at me. 

“Hampsley?” he said hastily. '‘An thy father, 
young master, was Roger Hampsley of Bristol, I knew 
him well—and knew him for a brave man.^’ 

'Tt was the same, sir,” I told him proudly. "Oft 
have I heard him speak of you, sir, and the days when 
he sailed the seas under you.” 

Which was indeed the truth, for my father had been 
with Drake on one of his voyages to the Spanish Main. 

"I trust me that he is-” Drake began, but some¬ 

thing in my eyes must have told him the truth even 
before I blurted out: 

"Sir, he is dead!” 

"God rest his soul!” said the Admiral, and I knew 
he spoke sincerely and not as comes from the lips of a 
canting hypocrite. "But, of him will we speak, may¬ 
hap, another time. Now there is this caitiif to deal 
with. Master Rodney,” he turned to Dan as he spoke, 
"I saw that in your face that told me plainly enough 
as if it had been written on paper that you have met 
this rogue aforetime. Know you who he is?” 

"Nay, sir,” Dan told him, "that I know not. All 
that I do know of him is that thrice in Bristol City 
and once here in Plymouth—and that last, even this 
very day—^he has tried his murderous tricks on me. 
ITaith, I would like to know more about him!” 

72 



STRANGE MEETINGS 


*‘Look you at his face!” said Drake, and pointed an 
accusing finger at the man. ‘“See you not, have ye 
not seen before, that he is no Englishman, but a dog 
of a Spaniard?” 

At that, I confess, I did push forward my head as if 
to get a closer view of the man, who in his turn started 
back as if the words had caught him unawares; while 
Dan Rodney took a step forward, and, silent for a 
moment, said afterwards: 

“Sir, an it please you to know, this is the first time 
that, in real light by which a man could see full plainly 
another’s features, I have seen this fellow: and I do 
see that you speak right when you say he is a dog of a 
Spaniard. And, sir, now do I begin to understand 
something of why-” 

“Enough of that, master!” exclaimed Drake sud¬ 
denly, holding up a hand. “Speak not what you would 
say for the time. I know! Let me but say this, and 
then have the villain taken out and put in irons until 
the morning when we will run him to the yardarm, and 
so keep him from troubling more. Dog of a Spaniard 
as he is, he is none other than Don Enriquez, brother 
of a man who was governor of a port on the Main—a 
very particular port I wot of, and that once knew what 
’twas to feel the tread of English feet up its streets! 
Ho, there, without!” 

At his sharp call a man entered, and at command, 
did force Enriquez and his comrade from the cabin, the 
Spaniard going out like a whipped cur, and as he passed 

73 





THE FLAMING CROSS OF SANTA MARTA 


me I saw that his right hand was bandaged, and knew 
that my shrewd thrust earlier on had given him some¬ 
thing by which to remember me until the moment 
when he was swinging on the yardarm of which Drake 
spoke. 

‘‘Gentlemen!”—Drake looked at the officers around 
him as he spoke—“an you mind not I would have 
counsel alone with this man Rodney and his com¬ 
panion.” 

Whereat, the men rose to their feet and went from 
the cabin, leaving us marveling—Rodney and me—as 
to why Drake would not speak his mind in presence of 
his own and trusted officers. We were not, though, left 
in wonder long, for scarcely had the door closed behind 
them, and Drake himself had close-fastened it after 
them, than he, seating himself again and bidding us be 
the same, said: 

“Master Rodney, know you why ’tis that I would 
speak with you?” 

“Your Excellency,” Dan told him, “this only do I 
know, that it must have something to do with that 
map which hides behind a new shirt that I bought 
to-day to save quick hands from revealing it 1” 

Drake’s laugh at that was good to hear, and I knew 
that he was a man who could enjoy another’s joke, 
even though ’twas directed at him. 

“Well spoken, and with wit. Master Rodney!” he 
said, when his laugh was over. 

“I know what ’tis you speak of! Aye, you are right 

74 




STRANGE MEETINGS 


about that map—’tis on that I would have things to 
say, or, rather, to ask/^ 

“ ’Tis a thing of wonder to me, sir,” said Dan boldly, 
“how it came about that you knew of the map, as 
know you surely do. Six men there were ever in this 
world who knew that that map existed, or so I thought, 
and four of them died on the Main, and one whose fate 
I knew not of until but a short while ago when, thanks 
be, I was the means of giving him his deservements, 
so that he no longer lives; and I myself—nay—one 
other, this young master, my friend’s son and my friend 
too.” 

“Master Rodney,” Drake said quietly, tapping the 
table before him with stubby fingers, “most that you 
say is true, but in one particular are you wrong; four 
of those men did not die out on the Main. Three of 
them did, the fourth I, years agone, did save from a 
Spanish vessel where he was a prisoner, and though he 
died not long afterwards, even while aboard my ship, 
before he died he spoke of a thing that I wotted of, 
even then, the Flaming Cross of Santa Marta. He 
spoke, too, of a man, one Dan Rodney, who had cut 
upon his chest a chart that showed where it had been 
hidden. That man gave the name of—let me see, 
’twas awhiles agone, as I tell you, and a man cannot 
remember all names of folk he meets.” He paused, 
but Dan Rodney came to his rescue: 

“Hawke—nay, ’twas not he, for he died in Bristol 

75 




THE FLAMING CROSS OF SANTA MARTA 


but a little while ago, as I told you. Singleton?, 
Pendreth or-” 

‘‘ ’Tis that sameexclaimed Drake. ‘T do mind it 
now. Aye, hwas Pendreth, and he died on my own 
ship. Now, list you. Master Rodney: I think me I 

can trust you and-” he paused again, and his small 

eyes peered straight and hard at Rodney as though they 
would read the man’s inmost thoughts and snatch the 
secrets from his very heart. ‘‘Aye, I can trust you!” 

‘‘That may you do, sir, on the word of a man who 
ne’er broke faith with any!” Rodney exclaimed. “And 
the boy, too—you can trust him! Sir, I am listening!” 

“Then list to this,” said Drake. “ ’Tis almost settled 
—I wait but for the Queen her Majesty’s permission— 
that, together with Sir John Hawkins, I do go once 
more to the Main to bring a harvest of treasure from 
the Dons’ treasure houses. Now, since I have met you, 
there be something else to go for, ’tis for that Flaming 
Cross, an you will reveal the hiding place of it.” 

“Sir,” said Dan Rodney, and I marveled at his bold¬ 
ness, though had I been older I should have known 
that he was a rare reader of men’s characters and had 
rightly read that of Drake’s as a man who would do 
no ill to a man who trusted him, and who was no foe. 
“Sir,” he said, “an it were any other man in like situa¬ 
tion to your own I should have naught to say but that 
I was in your power to do with as you will. For certain 
to me it is that that man Pendreth must have told you 
’twas not far from Santa Marta that the Flaming Cross 

76 




STRANGE MEETINGS 


was hid, and, therefore, with me in your power you 
could seize the map by seizing my body, and I doubt 
not, from it seek and find the hiding place. But there 
is no need for you to do that thing; I am an English¬ 
man, thanks be, and as such am at the disposal of the 
Queen her Majesty; therefore am I at yours.” 

It was a long speech indeed for Dan Rodney, and as 
he spoke I saw Drake’s mouth working tremulously 
as though the man’s devotion were affecting him, as, 
I do confess, it was me. 

‘Well spoken, and like a true Englishman!” 
exclaimed Drake, and I did not marvel in the least now 
that he reached over and gripped hard Rodney’s hand 
which he seized. “Reward I offer none—’twould be 
but to insult you, but this one thing I do want now that 
it does seem possible to get it, I want the Flaming 
Cross, because know you the superstition regarding it?” 

“Aye, sir, I know of that,” Rodney told him. 
“Though I believe not in such things I” 

“What, and you a sailorman who has roamed the 
full seas?” exclaimed Drake. “Man, there be many 
things that we do call superstition that be founded on 
more certain ground than fancy. However, let it pass, 
what you believe; it is sufficient for me that the Dons 
have a faith that the Flaming Cross is a cross of 
destiny—and ’tis whispered in Spain that ’tis because 
it is not known where the Cross is that all the many 
ills of the past years have come upon the Dons. I 
would that I could set the Flaming Cross behind bars 

77 




THE FLAMING CROSS OF SANTA MARTA 


in the Tower at London, or nail it to my mainmast and 
go sweeping into a Spanish harbor with a lantern 
throwing light upon it. I warrant you ’twould be 
enough to make those dogs scuttle away! What matters 
it whether you or I believe the tale or not, so that they 
believe it! Master Rodney, you have given your word: 
I take it—^and when we go to the west you go with us. 
You shall lead us to the place where the Flaming Cross 
has lain buried these many years, and we will sail us 
home with it nailed to our mast and with our holds 
full of gold!” 




CHAPTER V 

MY FIRST FIGHT WITH THE DONS 


T he man’s eyes flashed and his face flushed 
deeper than the tan of it wrought by the sun 
and the wind, and I marveled at the strange 
mixture of a man that he was. Gentle sometimes, 
witty at others, devoted always as a religious in mat¬ 
ters affecting his country and his queen, and I loved 
him that instant. 

“Sir,” said Dan quietly, but I knew by the tone of 
his voice that he, too, was affected by Drake’s manner, 
“as you say, I have given you my word. But, an it 
please you, I would like to say that I have already 
signed me on, and this young friend of mine, too, to 
go with you to the Main in the Roaming Death under 
Captain Larby.” 

“A good man, but oft given to the bowl!” said 
Drake. “Master Rodney, I trust that you have said 
nothing to him of the Flaming Cross.” 

“Nay, sir, not a word,” was the reply. “An the 
truth be told, sir, I had this intention: before I was at¬ 
tacked by the man you call Enriquez, I was for charter¬ 
ing me a ship of mine own to sail to the Main and bring 
back treasure and the Cross, but did decide not to do 
that, but to join your company and bide the time when, 

79 


THE FLAMING CROSS OF SANTA MARTA 


reaching the Main, perchance I might get ashore and 
find me companions there, as ’tis well known there often 
be, who would join me in the venture.” 

'^Desert the ship you sailed on!” snapped Drake, and 
his eyes were fierce looking. 

“I would have already paid in my work for the pas¬ 
sage, sir,” said Dan, and at his words Drake laughed 
again and again, though I do confess it was not a very 
convincing argument to me. 

‘'Well, well, we’ll let that go,” Drake said. “Suffice 
it that you have given your word and I have taken it. 
The Flaming Cross is yours, the treasure there with it 
is yours, too, an it is to be got; you will not grudge 
your country the Cross, my master?” 

“Nay, nor the treasure,” said Dan valiantly. 

“The treasure shall be yours—’tis your own by right 
of conquest and of knowledge!” said Drake firmly. 
“Now list you, master—^be there any copy of that 
chart?” 

“Never a one,” was the reply. 

“Then, ’twere well that there should be. An I prom¬ 
ise you that no man but myself shall ever see it, wilt 
let’s copy it now? Ere we reach the Main, my mas¬ 
ter, none can tell what shall happen.” 

“A cheerful manner of speaking!” I thought to 
myself as I heard him, but Dan made no sign of dis¬ 
taste. Merely did he say: 

“Sir, I bought me a new shirt, as I told ye, an you 

8o 




MY FIRST FIGHT WITH THE DONS 


mind not that I doff it here then can the chart be copied 
now.” 

For answer, Drake drew a quill and ink towards 
him and said: 

“Doff the shirt, Master Rodney!” 

Whereat Dan did so, and Drake did say to me: 

“Master Hampsley—i’faith, now can I remember 
your father in you I—come you and make the copy for 
me. 

He pushed the parchment and quill and ink towards 
me. Taking them, I did, for the next several minutes, 
find myself engrossed in as strange a task as youth ever 
had—that of copying in black that which was scarred 
in red upon the chest of Dan Rodney; and, believe me, 
my masters, there was not one single line nor dot in all 
that I did that was not graven as lastingly upon my 
mind as it was upon the parchment before me. 

“A fair copy, Roger,” Drake said to me when I had 
finished, and he took the parchment from me, sanded 
it so that it dried well, and then folding it, placed it in 
a chest which he locked before our eyes. 

“That much is done, and heaven grant that ’fore 
long the Flaming Cross be nailed to the mast of the 
good ship Defiance! One thing ’tis good to know, and 
that is, that there be naught now to fear from that rogue 
Enriquez, for to-morrow he’ll swing at the yardarm, 
as you shall see.” 

“I’d rather I had spitted him in fair fight, sir 1” said 
Dan gruffly. “I do feel I owe him something for his 

8i 




THE FLAMING CROSS OF SANTA MARTA 


villainy! Nevertheless, a snake in th’ grass must be 
stamped on, no matter how I And now, sir, I do think 
that 'twere time, an it please you, that we went us back 
to the Roaming Death/* 

To tell the truth, after what had happened, I did 
expect that Drake would say that we should stay 
aboard the Defiance, and I found myself hoping that 
such he would say. ’Stead, however, he merely said: 

'‘So you shall go. ’Twere well not to let folk know 
that you and I have talked—’cept that, mayhap, ’twas 
about my thanks to you for saving my life. The 
which I do now, and say that indeed I am thankful to 
you!” 

Spite of the simplicity of those thanks, there was the 
ring of truth in the words and I for one was pleased 
to hear them. 

“A bumper o’ wine to our success,” said Drake, 
pushing a golden goblet over to Rodney. As for me, 
he looked at me with twinkling eyes and said: “Mas¬ 
ter Roger, I’ll not tempt ye; wine is not for the young!” 

“Aye, sir, and that is truth!” I said simply. “Never¬ 
theless, I toast to the same success!” 

Two minutes afterwards, we, Dan Rodney and I, 
were out of the cabin and, led by a man, went us to 
where our clothes were adrying, received them, changed 
into them, and then, dark though it was, and late, we 
were rowed over to the Roaming Death. Challenged 
we were, but answering well, were allowed aboard, 
where, needless to say, we told only part the truth for 

82 




MY FIRST FIGHT WITH THE DONS 


our delay, and that which concerned the affair of Ad¬ 
miral Drake’s escape. True, we did not tell it to Cap¬ 
tain Larby that night, for we saw him not, since he was 
lying in his cabin sleeping off the witlessness of a de¬ 
bauch ashore. 

Spite of all the excitement of the day, I had nothing 
of trouble in getting me to sleep that night, and when 
morning came I was refreshed as I stood at the side of 
the Roaming Death with Rodney, looking across 
towards the Defiance, expecting to see a limp form 
swaying at the yardarm. 

^Tt is not there, Roger,” Rodney said quietly. 

“ ’Twas something of a lying tale, maybe, that you 
told,” said a man near at hand, and the grin on his face 
died away when Dan Rodney’s fist struck him between 
the eyes, and Rodney said: 

“No man calls Dan Rodney a liar and not pay for it!” 

Instead of a grin, there was malice, hatred, a look 
of vengeance on the man’s face, and I registered it in 
my mind in that instant that Dan Rodney had indeed 
made an enemy of Henry Treverne by that blow. Little 
did I think how true I was that day, little did I imagine 
how far-reaching was to be the effects of that blow, 
and perhaps ’twere well that I did not know what the 
future held for us, else, maybe, I had for all my cour¬ 
age have held back from the venture. 

I turned away as Treverne went off and looked again 
towards the Defiance, but still the swaying form was 
absent. 


83 




THE FLAMING CROSS OF SANTA MARTA 


‘‘Has the Admiral relented, think you?” I asked 
Rodney, but he shook his head. 

“I know not, lad,” he said. “Mayhap ^tis so; I 
have known Franky Drake do many a thing that would 
seem foolish to most others.” 

It was not until somewhat later that morning that 
we learned the truth, and it was staggering indeed to 
Dan and me. There came a boat laden with such 
things as sailormen in harbor are wont to buy, and the 
tradesmen in it did say within my hearing: 

“Heard ye the tale, my masters? No? Why, that 
last night Admiral Drake was attacked and-” 

“ ’Tis stale news, an that be it!” said a seaman, one 
Jack Finch, a very giant of a man at whom I had oft 
looked and imagined I could see him in a fight of 
boarders. 

“Nay, but ’tis not all,” was the dealer’s reply. “ ’Tis 
said that it was intended to hang him at the yardarm 
this morn, but when the guard would have fetched him 
for the hanging he was gone, and the irons that had 
held him lay broken loose, and they do say, masters, 
that his Excellency the Admiral is sore vexed!” 

I moved me away and walked off with Dan Rodney. 

“If the Admiral is any more vexed than I am, aye, 
or afraid more,” my comrade said, “he’s in sorry 
plight. I had thought we had seen the last of that 
man, and now we, you and I, have got to keep close 
watch on ourselves lest we be taken unawares during 
the weeks that follow. Lad, ’tis a good thing, indeed, 

84 





MY FIRST FIGHT WITH THE DONS 


that the Admiral did take that copy of the chart. Also, 
methinks ’twere well that you had one too and-” 

‘‘Friend,’’ I said quickly, but quietly, “I have it 
already!” 

Dan Rodney stood stock-still and stared at me, and 
I laughed up at his bearded face. 

“Nay, Dan,” I told him, “look not at me so. I have 
not played you any trick and spied on ye while ye slept! 
Mind ye not that last e’en I did copy it for the Ad¬ 
miral?” 

“But—” he began, only I cut him off quickly. 

“ ’Twas then that I took a copy for myself,” I said. 
“ ’Tis graven as deep in my mind as ’tis on your chest 
—aye, deeper, perhaps!” 

“The mind’s not over a safe place to trust,” he said 
soberly. “But, an you feel satisfied, ’tis well. And 
’tis true that the fewer copies that can be read by eyes 
the better. Mayhap that villain,” he turned him to the 
other subject again, “will be found. Leastwise, we 
must possess our souls in patience and see what is done 
about it.” 

What was done about it was this. That very day 
a boat came alongside the Roaming Death and a man 
delivered a sealed letter to Dan Rodney. He knew not 
whence it had come, only that it had been given him 
on the shore with instructions where to deliver it. And 
when Dan opened it he found that ’twas a note from 
Drake himself telling him of the escape of Don Enri- 

85 





THE FLAMING CROSS OF SANTA MARTA 


quez, and that everything possible would be done to 
find the man. Meantime, the note went on: we were 
to keep good watch and guard, especially if we went 
ashore. 

Now, since ^twas to be many weeks—^and, as it 
turned out, as you may find, my masters, if you will 
read the printed broadsheets, months—ere we should 
set sail for the Main, it was not to be expected that all 
the men of all the ships gathered at Plymouth should 
remain aboard without break; and so it came about 
that a month after entering the Sound, during which 
time much work had been done to the Roaming Death, 
Dan Rodney and I found ourselves ashore at South¬ 
ampton whither the Roaming Death had been sent by 
Drake to press men for the great adventure brewing. 
During that month naught had been heard of Don 
Enriquez and, to tell the truth, I, for my part, had nigh 
forgotten that he ever existed. If I did think of him, 
it was rather as of a dead man, a man drowned by the 
weight of parts of the irons that he could not get rid 
of when he had left the Defiance. Also, Dan Rodney 
never mentioned him, and in truth we were like all the 
rest of the men aboard the Roaming Death —sailors 
chafing like dogs on leash to be released for the 
sport. 

It was, therefore, something of relief to be sent, as 
we were, on our mission, and Captain Larby did acqui¬ 
esce in Dan’s request that we two should be allowed to 
try our hands at recruiting men. 

86 




MY FIRST FIGHT WITH THE DONS 


Which does account for the fact that we were one 
day towards the middle of June sitting us in a tavern 
kitchen, and Dan Rodney pouring into the ears of 
sea-worn sailors tales of the golden west—^and that to 
men who had never been, despite their many years 
aboard, farther than Ireland. Ho, ho, it was good 
work Dan Rodney did that day, for by the time that 
we returned to shipboard, we had no less than six men 
in train, and every one of them hale men and hearty, 
and fellows, as you would say, who could give account 
of themselves in fight. 

One man only there was professed knowledge of the 
Main, and he one named Jack Garrish, and he showed 
scars which he vowed had been won on the Main itself, 
and Dan, by questions of many kinds, proved the man 
to be no liar. Of this man Garrish would I speak 
more fully, since he plays not a little part in the rest 
that follows. So I would have you know that his face 
—what you could see of it—since it was smothered 
nigh all over with beard, and not the trimmed, close- 
cropped beard of most men, but full sized—his face 
I say was tanned by wind and sun till it was nigh black. 
And over one eye, the right, he wore a patch because, 
as he said, the eye was given to constant twitching in 
th^ light—the which patch had made me stare at him 
when he first entered the tavern just after Dan and I 
had walked in. A well built man, he yet had gentle 
tongue, and ’tis strange how a man will notice little 
things, his hands were not worn and hard as might have 

87 




THE FLAMING CROSS OF SANTA MARTA 


been expected in one who had sailed so long before the 
mast as Garrish swore he had. 

‘‘A man should take somewhat of pride in himself, 
even though he be a common sailor,’^ he had said to 
Dan when my comrade had twitted him on his 
“woman’s fingers”; and, indeed, I did agree in that. 
Also, it was plain that Garrish took care not merely of 
his hands, but also of his clothes, which were clean 
and well made, so that when at last he stood on the deck 
of the Roaming Death he was one to be singled out 
from the rest, as indeed he was by Captain Larby. 

“Ho, there, my man!” the captain sang out. “You 
look not too much of a sailorman, nor one who might 
want to be!” 

“Sir,” put in Master Garrish, “therein, an it please 
you, is a mistake, as this man”—pointing to Rodney 
—“can assure you, since he have proved me. I have 
sailed on many seas and seen more than once the 
Main I” 

“Then you’ll see it again!” roared Larby, who liked 
a man who spoke out straight. “Art any good at a 
gun ?” 

“Aye, even at a gun,” was the reply. 

Forthwith Larby did appoint Garrish to the gun’s 
crew of which Rodney was mate. Thus it was that 
the lines of our lives—Rodney’s, Garrish’s and my own 
—fell together. And I will say that although in many 
ways Garrish was a strange man, given to little con¬ 
versation, he was of good will, and boasted of his pleas- 

88 




MY FIRST FIGHT WITH THE DONS 


ure at being in such company on such an errand as the 
expedition was bent. 

The Roaming Death spent a week or so—-well into 
July—at Southampton and then at Dover, whither she 
went afterwards, and afterwards sailed back to Plym¬ 
outh to finish refitting, ready against the day of de¬ 
parture, which day none knew the exactness of. 

For myself, the months that I had been aboard the 
Roaming Death had done something, with the aid of 
Dan Rodney, to make somewhat of a man of me. I 
had grown stronger of arm and body, my eyes had 
grown keener, and I do believe that I had added some¬ 
what to my stature—at least, so swore Dan Rodney. 
Also, I was feeling as though I had come into a 
heritage of which I had been defrauded hitherto—the 
sea seemed to belong to me and I to the sea, and that 
I take it is the right and proper feeling for every Eng¬ 
lishman. I know it was right for me; had not my 
father belonged to the sea before me? 

I would not have you think that these weeks and 
months were spent only in the matter of recruiting. 
There were other things afoot. 

After we came us back from Dover, and while we 
lay off the Hoe kicking up our heels in idleness—many 
of the men not so idle as far as pleasure and so on were 
concerned—there came news that was both startling 
and surprising. Yet perhaps I ought not to say sur¬ 
prising, for it ought to have been clear to the thickest 
of heads that such preparations as were in the doing 

89 




THE FLAMING CROSS OF SANTA MARTA 


could not move apace without the news of it spreading. 
Truth to tell, there were Spanish emissaries in every 
port, and the taverns were the frequenting places of 
these dark-skinned Dons whose wide-open ears and 
cunning eyes took in everything that passed. 

And so, whether distorted or in full truth I know 
not, news reached Spain—news that there was a fleet 
fitting: and for an English fleet to be fitting there must 
be some reason. And what reason but against Spain, 
either in Europe or—more likely, since hwas Drake and 
Hawkins engaged in it—on the far-off Main ? 

In those days I was not of an age to understand 
what that must mean, but since then have I learned 
many things and do know the ways of men and of na¬ 
tions better, so that I can imagine that when some 
bronzed man breathed his news into Philip’s ears there 
would be much scurrying and much cursing against the 
Dragon, and, since Spain was by no means a dead 
nation yet, ’twould be decided in council that such 
plans were better nipped in the bud. 

So do I think me now was what happened there in 
Spain, as we in England did believe when one day a 
sloop beat into the Sound of Plymouth—and it was 
startling news she brought. It happened that Dan 
Rodney and I were aboard the Defiance that morning, 
being there on some matter of the Flaming Cross that 
Francis Drake had wanted to know more about, and 
as we sat us in his state cabin there came a rap on the 
door. 


90 




MY FIRST FIGHT WITH THE DONS 


‘^Enter!” bellowed the Admiral, and there came in a 
man who said that there was a sea captain from Pen¬ 
zance who would have speech with his Excellency. 

‘‘He does say, ’tis matter of urgency, sir!” the sea¬ 
man said, and Drake growled that he might come in 
forthwith. 

Whereupon a man, who must have been waiting on 
the threshold almost, entered the cabin. 

“Your message, sir?” Drake asked briskly. But the 
newcomer looked from him to us and hesitated. 

“Out ye with it, man!” roared the Admiral. “These 
be trusted friends of mine. What matter is it that 
has a secret to it?” 

“Your Excellency,” the man said, “there be Span¬ 
iards down to Penzance 1” 

“Pish, man!” shouted Drake. “Thou hast been 
dreaming!” 

“Then am I dreaming now, sir!” the man said 
boldly. “Four galleys laden with soldiers there are 
at Penzance, or thereabouts, and I did see them beating 
in towards land, and so I did hurry me here with the 
warning!” 

I looked from the speaker to Drake and saw the 
Admirars eyes draw, as it were, closer together, and 
his hands clench so that the veins stood out in them. 

“Then heaven help those same Dons!” he rapped, 
getting to his feet. “We’ll trap ’em an they land, and 
chase them down to Spain an they get away ’fore we 
can come up with them. My masters”—^he turned to 

91 




THE FLAMING CROSS OF SANTA MARTA 


Dan Rodney and me—‘'we must leave that matter of 
ours till later. There be things afoot.*’ 

He clanged on a great gong that stood in his cabin, 
and there came in an officer, to whom Drake gave a 
number of instructions, one of which fired me, at least, 
as I heard it, for ’twas nothing less than that amongst 
the ships that should sail at once for Penzance was the 
Roaming Death. We did salute ourselves out of the 
cabin, Dan and I, and tumbled overside into our boat, 
which rowed us across to the Roaming Death. We 
were the bearers of the orders that made Captain Larby 
swear volubly, seeing that he was about to go ashore for 
another bout o’ drinking. 

“A curse on the Spanishers!” he bellowed; but he 
stamped up on to the poop and roared out commands 
that sent every man flying to work. 

Thus it was that I saw my first sight of prepara¬ 
tions for a fight. Bustle there was, and hard work— 
getting the guns ready and the powder up, dealing out 
cutlasses and muskets and pistols and what not else of 
fighting use—so that when we came in sight, as soon 
we did through carrying every inch of canvas possible, 
of Penzance, we were all ready. We hove to there 
and sent ashore to learn what we could, and, finding 
that the Dons had indeed landed some miles west of 
the town, we set us off again. I, filled with much ex¬ 
citement, stood on the deck looking westwards, and I 
do mind me even now the pride I felt when I found 
voice and shouted: 


92 


MY FIRST FIGHT WITH THE DONS 


‘‘Masters, I think I do see them—^aye, and there be 
flames an I be not a blind fool!” 

No need is there for me to write more about our get¬ 
ting there. We fell on those Dons as they were re¬ 
embarking. Our big guns raked them from every 
quarter as our little squadron tacked about and took 
up circling positions, our grapeshot flew amongst 
them, and sails in the hoisting clattered to the decks. 
The ironed slaves in the Spanish galleys toiled beneath 
their masters* thongs in the endeavor to get the ships 
out to sea, and when *twas done we swooped down on 
them. 

Aye, *twas a right proper fight, that first one that 
ever I saw; and when Captain Larby, by seamanship 
that made me gasp with admiration even in those mad 
moments, placed the Roaming Death alongside a big 
galley it was at the side of Dan Rodney that I found 
myself with my father’s blade in my hand. 

I laughed very merrily at him as we two together 
dropped on to the decks of the galley. And then I 
found myself at it. A big, hairy ruffian of a man 
blazed at me with a pistol, but I knocked it aside by a 
shrewd thrust at his wrist, and then had him run 
through. 




CHAPTER VI 


GARRISH: THE MYSTERY MAN 

I T was the first time my blade had bitten deep into 
flesh, except when I had fought the mystery man 
in Plymouth and scraped his hand for him, and 
now ’twas like wine to a sick man. This was no per¬ 
sonal quarrel. It was an Englishman’s duty, and I 
withdrew the blade ready for the next man who, leap¬ 
ing over his comrade as he fell to the deck, had at me 
with a sword which would have mowed my head from 
my shoulders had it not been for a quick swoop of Dan 
Rodney’s broadsword, which did the severing instead. 

After that I remember naught, except that for hours, 
it seemed, I was fighting, and would have fought on 
for hours longer had it not been for a surging call of 
‘‘Boarders, return!” 

Whereupon we went back, fighting as we went, to 
find that a swarm of Dons had actually boarded the 
Roaming Death and were like to have seized the ship. 

That they did not was because we hurled them back 
—^by which time, as by a miracle, the three other Span¬ 
ish vessels had got them away and were being chased 
down Channel. 

As for the rest, I saw it not. A hot searing pain 

94 


GARRISH: THE MYSTERY MAN 


caught me in the hip, and I slipped me into a strange 
sleep, I realized that a ball had found me—^and so I 
knew no more until I found myself between-decks 
staring up at Dan Rodney and our master surgeon, who 
fingered something black. 

“Heaven save us, Roger,’' Dan said, “but I thought 
you would never awake again.” 

“ 'Twas as well the lad slept so long,” the surgeon 
said. “It did give chance to get this from him,” and 
he pitched the black thing to Dan. “ 'Tis the Span¬ 
ish ball, lad,” he told me, “that did find you in the last 
minutes of the fight.” 

“Ah, I do remember,” I said weakly, for I do con¬ 
fess that I felt anything but perky. “Fd like that same 
ball, Dan, please.” 

“Ye shall have it, lad,” Rodney told me, and slipped 
it into my jerkin lying on the floor beside me. Then 
the surgeon bound me up, and so I lay for days and days 
in Plymouth Sound, whither, as I had discovered, we 
had already come, the Spanishers having been fully 
routed, though not before they had done some consid¬ 
erable damage ashore. 

Long weeks I lay about the Roaming Death ere I 
could be free, and by that time plans had gone apace 
and we were well into August. In fact, it wanted but 
two days of our sailing when I took my first stroll 
ashore—the last walk I was to have on English soil for 
many a month. 

Dan Rodney was with me, and Jack Garrish. We 

95 




THE FLAMING CROSS OF SANTA MARTA 


went to Dan’s favorite tavern, and whom should we 
find there but Francis Drake himself. We’d have 
known it not had it not been that we heard his voice in 
a room next >vhere we sat, and I glanced up at Rodney, 
greatly wondering at the reason for the Admiral’s pres¬ 
ence in such a low tavern. Dan, for his part, winked 
at me—^and I saw naught. Jack Garrish a few mo¬ 
ments later got up from his mug and left the room on 
some errand, and when he had gone I whispered low 
to Dan. 

‘‘Nay, I know not why he be here,” Rodney said in 
answer to my question. “Whist, what fools some men 
do be!” 

I knew what he meant, for at that moment a man’s 
voice, thick with liquor, had spoken, and the words he 
said—“Sack the Grand Canary—aye, we will!”—^had 
brought a low growled warning from Drake. 

“Thank heaven there be none but us in the room,” 
Rodney said. “And I do think it well that we also go. 
The less any man knows o’ what’s afoot, the better. 
Come, let’s find Jack Garrish.” 

So we went out of the room and ran into Garrish, 
or, rather, nigh tumbled over him as he stooped low, as 
if fastening his shoe, which indeed he did tell us was 
the case. And then we went out, I with a throbbing 
head as I thought of what the careless words I had 
heard portended, for they meant that on the way to the 
Main we were to look in on the Grand Canary and beard 
the Dons in one of their dens. 

96 




GARRISH: THE MYSTERY MAN 


“Why away so soon, friends?’* Garrish asked us 
when we were out of the inn, and Dan told him he’d 
had enow of drinking that night. 

“Then I’ll be drinking with myself,” Garrish said, 
laughing, and left us on the instant. 

“A strange man, Garrish,” I said to Dan when the 
fellow had gone. 

“Aye,” Dan agreed. “And yet I liked him at the 
first. Lad, did’st see that there was a window nigh 
where he stood that was open into the room where 
Franky Drake was?” 

I had to confess that I had not noticed that, but I 
knew what was in Dan’s mind. 

“I do think we should follow him awhile,” Rodney 
said. “Roger, I like not things as they are! I saw 
something in the eyes of Garrish when that fool with 
Drake spoke. ’Twas for that I did come out, hoping 
to get Garrish away. Come on!” 

So we turned in time to see Garrish disappear round 
a corner, and we followed him through endless streets 
and alleys until we saw him enter a tavern. Now that 
was not remarkable, I allow, but an the man had wanted 
liquor there had been many inns he passed ’fore he 
reached this one, which set us to thinking. 

“There be his shadow on the window,” Dan said 
when we were nigh the house. “And—” He stopped 
speaking, for we were at the window itself, and a voice 
spoke in what to me was a strange tongue. I looked 
up at Dan Rodney, and his face was set hard. He laid 

97 




THE FLAMING CROSS OF SANTA MARTA 


a hand upon my arm, and I kept silence, standing there 
with him, hearing the low murmur of voices through 
the slightly opened window but understanding nothing 
of what was spoken. 

Came a moment when Dan drew me away. 

‘‘Roger,he said, “ ’twere an ill thing we did—not 
bringing our weapons with us.” 

“Why?” I asked him. “What things did those men 
speak, and in what tongue?” 

“Spanish they spoke,” he told me. “That man Gar- 
rish knows Spanish as he knows English, and the man 
he was speaking to is a Spaniard.” 

“What said they?” I urged, eager to know what was 
afoot. 

“This night, Roger,” Dan went on, “there is to be 
an attempt to blow up the Defiance with Drake aboard, 
since ’tis believed, an those men speak truth, that if 
Drake should die, then mayhap the expedition will die 
too!” 

“By the Lord Harry!” I cried, even I, not given over¬ 
much to strong language. “What will you be doing 
about it, Dan Rodney, that you hasten away instead 
of-” 

“Tush!” said Dan, laughing at me. “There is no 
need to go chasing those men. And, besides, there be 
better things to do and better times. Since we know 
what’s a-doing we can prevent it and, maybe, capture 
them at the time. Now listen, Roger. That man with 
Garrish is to send news on the morrow, an the plot fails, 

98 





GARRISH: THE MYSTERY MAN 


that the fleet is sailing and that ’tis proposed to call in at 
the Grand Canary. There is another thing, Roger.” 

‘‘To wit?” I prompted him. 

“Garrish, an the plot fail, is still to accompany us, 
because—guess it, lad?” 

“He knows somewhat of the Flaming Cross!” I ex¬ 
ploded, and Rodney nodded to me. 

“Aye, his so, lad,” he said. “He knows where is 
the chart!” 

“But ye’ll not allow him to do that!” I exclaimed. 

“Why not?” was the reply. “Since we know what’s 
doing, there’s less danger in Garrish going with us than 
if he stayed away! Don’t you see that we shall have 
him under our eyes? Ah, I see you understand that, 
Roger! But, to th’ other point—to-night, when the 
moon has gone, there’s to be a boat row over to the 
Defiance laden with gunpowder. ’Twill be moored to 
the ship nigh where the powder magazine is, and a train 
set so that it shall blow up—and heaven help the 
Defiance an it be not prevented! Come, Roger, we’ll 
get us to that tavern where we did leave the Admiral!” 

Needless to say, we hurried, and we were fortunate 
enough to reach the inn within time to catch the Ad¬ 
miral, upon whom we burst without ceremony, so that 
he scowled when he saw us. 

“What means this?” he demanded, springing to his 
feet. 

“Sir,” Dan Rodney said quickly, “we would crave 
secret word with you on matters of high import!” 

99 


THE FLAMING CROSS OF SANTA MARTA 


‘‘How knew you I was here?” Drake demanded. 
And Rodney told him plainly what he had heard. 

‘‘Faugh!” growled Drake, scowling now at the half- 
sleeping man nid-nodding on the table between them. 
“ ’Tis true indeed that when th’ wine^s in, the wits are 
out. Master Scriven, an you can walk straightly. Til 
have ye go now.” 

The man, whom I had never seen before, but whose 
name I recognized as that of a captain of one of the 
ships to go with us, got clumsily to his feet and lurched 
out of the room. And so we found ourselves in the 
room with Drake. 

“Now speak!” said the Admiral, and Dan told him 
hurriedly what he had learned. 

“It seems that you two be very good friends, aye, 
and protectors of me,” said Drake when Rodney 
had finished. “What time is this plot to be carried 
out?” 

“At ten o^ the clock,” said Rodney. “And ’twere well 
that you did not go aboard the Defiance this night, 
sir.” 

“Pish—ril go,” was the reply. “But hwill be after 
we have seized the knaves. Come with me!” Wrapping 
his cloak about him, he led us from the tavern and to 
a place that I knew not the name of, but where he found 
him a number of soldiers, with whom, it now being 
half-past nine o’clock, we all went down to the shore. 
We rowed us over towards the Defiance, with muffled 
oars, and came up under the shadow of the tall ship, 

100 


r V 




GARRISH: THE MYSTERY MAN 


where we lay listening to the tramp of the watch, of 
whom Drake said many strong things that they had not 
seen us come, and vowed punishment for them on the 
morrow. 

We waited a good while, and then we heard the lowest 
of sounds, which Dan whispered to me was the scraping 
of a boat against the side of the ship, whereat a mut¬ 
tered command ran through our boat, which shot from 
its cover under the stern and went round the ship, crash¬ 
ing full into a boat which our men did not see, so dark 
was the night although it was August. And as we 
struck it pistols fired and two white figures leaped from 
the strange craft into the water, and as they went under 
there was a terrific crash, as though heaven and earth 
had met. A great flare of fire leaped into the air, fol¬ 
lowed by yet another and another. And the light 
showed me, even in those moments during which our 
boat was flung like a helpless thing by the force of the 
explosions, that barrels of powder had exploded. It 
was afterwards that it was said that the pistol shots had 
been fired, not at us, but at the barrels at close range to 
set the powder off. 

As for us, when we found that we were still afloat, 
and while hastily lighted torches flared aboard the 
Defiance, we went hurrying towards the shore, questing 
those white figures, which we had seen were stark-naked 
men, Drake himself peering into the gloom and urging 
on the rowers. But we found them not, those men who 
had hoped so much from their nefarious plot, and al- 

lOI 




THE FLAMING CROSS OF SANTA MARTA 


though many boats put off from other ships in the 
Sound, no trace of the men was found. 

We put back to the Defiance, where Drake would 
have it that Rodney and I should go aboard, since he 
had somewhat to say unto us. And when we were in 
his cabin he said: 

‘^My masters, you have done me good service this 
night, though I had wished that we might catch those 
rogues.” 

‘T do feel like a fool and a coward that I did not seize 
Garrish and his friend when I heard them,” growled 
Dan Rodney, “even as the lad would have had me do.” 

“Nay, not a coward. Master Rodney,” said Drake 
kindly enough. “I do understand what was in your 
mind. And mayhap we shall get one of them, for did 
you not say that ’twas agreed amongst them that Gar¬ 
rish should sail when we go?” 

“Aye, ’twas so,” was the reply. “An he be not too 
scared!” 

“Now list to me,” said Drake. “I have a plan.” 

“To string Master Garrish at the yardarm!” put in 
Rodney. 

I remembered another man who was condemned to 
that punishment, but escaped in the night. And the 
remembrance of it brought to me the thought that pos¬ 
sibly Enriquez was behind this latest plot. I said as 
much, and Admiral Drake smiled at me when I spoke. 

“Roger Hampsley,” he said, “ ’tis as likely as any¬ 
thing, and ’tis because of that that I have formed my 

102 




GARRISH: THE MYSTERY MAN 


plan. I would indeed be glad to seize that dog, En¬ 
riquez. And here is my plan: naught will we say to 
Garrish an he goes aboard the Roaming Death again. 
It shall be given for every ship to allow her men, or 
those of good behavior, to go ashore for the last time 
an they want to. And if Garrish chooses so to do, he 
shall go, but there shall be men watching him all the 
time—two men I have whom I can trust as I trust 
you.” 

^Why not give us that task, sir ?” I asked eagerly. 

‘‘Nay, Roger, ’twere better not, since Garrish would 
know you. These men of mine he’ll not know, that 
much is certain. If Enriquez be in this plot, what more 
likely than that Garrish should go to see him an it be 
possible? Describe you the man to me again. You 
have seen more of him than I have. Hold—I’ll have 
my two watchdogs in to listen to you!” 

So two men, who were introduced to us as Masters 
Gascoigne and Cooke, were ushered into the cabin, and 
listened while Dan and I described Garrish as best we 
could remember. After which we went us to the Roam¬ 
ing Death, pleased, in a measure, with what we had 
done, though distressed at our failure to capture the 
conspirators. 

When we reached our ship we found Jack Garrish 
there, asleep ’tween-decks, and of course we said never 
a word to any of our part in the night’s doings. Neither 
did we ask the next morning to go ashore when leave 
was announced according to the Admiral’s plan. But 

103 




THE FLAMING CROSS OF SANTA MARTA 


Garrish went, and Dan smiled at me as the rascal went? 
over the side. We waited throughout the day, wonder¬ 
ing what was happening ashore, and never were men 
more surprised than we when at eventide Garrish came 
aboard again. And so we were in ignorance of what 
had taken place until the next morning when Captain 
Larby, coming from the Defiance, where there had been 
a council of captains, handed Dan Rodney a sealed let¬ 
ter, saying that a man aboard the Admiral’s ship had 
craved the favor of it being brought. 

“And so turned me into a letter carrier, Dan Rod¬ 
ney !” Larby said with a laughing growl. 

Dan thanked his old shipmate and took the letter, the 
which he and I read together when opportunity came, 
and looked at each other wonderingly as we did so. As 
well we might,*for the note was from the Admiral, sent 
thus to avoid the cackle of tongues. And in it he 
said that no word was still to be mentioned of Garrish’s 
rascality; but that we were to watch him closely, since, 
maybe, when we reached the Main he might prove, 
under pressure, of some value. As for Enriquez, Gar¬ 
rish had not met him when ashore, and so naught had 
been done to apprehend the traitor. 

“ ’Tis much the same thing as you said, Dan,” I 
suggested after a while. And Dan nodded. 

“Aye, lad, ’tis a good plan, too. And we’ll watch 
him as a cat watches a mouse, to be sure. See you that 

104 




GARRISH: THE MYSTERY MAN 


footnote, lad—that we sail in two days’ time, which is 
the twenty-eighth of the month?” 

I had seen it, indeed, and it made me happy, for I 
was all eagerness to be off. My taste of battle and of 
intrigue had served to whet my appetite for more—the 
more that I knew would be waiting for us in the far- 
off seas. 

We kept good watch upon Garrish during the time 
we were still in the Sound, wondering whether after all 
he might make attempt to leave the Roaming Death ere 
she sailed. And Dan and I, who slept ’tween-decks with 
Garrish, took it in turns to keep awake o’ nights. But 
the man made no attempt to leave, and was aboard when 
the Roaming Death left the Sound in the wake of the 
larger vessels, which, giving salutes of farewell, were 
answered by cannons from the forts ashore on that 
twenty-eighth day of August, 1595; and the crews lined 
the ships’ sides, cheering, waving, happy men, on their 
.way to the golden west. 

Of that fleet I will but say this: that there were 
twenty-seven ships, amongst them, as you do know, the 
Defiance, with Admiral Drake aboard her, the Garland, 
commanded by none other than Admiral Hawkins, the 
Roaming Death, but a very small ship of few guns, and 
—but there, my masters, what will it interest you to 
know the names of all those vessels ? Sufficient to know 
that on board every one of them were bold, courageous 
men, bent on wresting from the Dons somewhat of the 

105 




THE FLAMING CROSS OF SANTA MARTA 


treasures of the Main, as so many had done before 
them. 

Right merry were we all during the weeks that, un¬ 
eventfully, we took in sailing southwards, Dan and I 
perhaps more merry than most because we knew that 
besides the main purpose of the expedition there was 
that other quest which interested us most. We were 
out to seek for the Flaming Cross, and had we not the 
word of Francis Drake that when we reached the Main 
he would spare time and men to help us in the search? 

I have said that those weeks were uneventful, but 
there was one thing that happened which served to in¬ 
terest me, at any rate, though I doubt not that it seemed 
but a minor thing to most others aboard the ships, who 
thought life little enough entertaining and would have 
liked much to have done business on the coast of Spain. 
The which Drake and Hawkins would have none of, be¬ 
ing of a mind to keep their purpose secret as long as 
possible, though methinks that the Dons knew quite 
enough as it was. For a month naught happened, and 
then on October the eighth we raised two low-lying 
ships in the distance, and on the signal from the flag¬ 
ship did the Roaming Death go chasing after them. 

'Tlyboats they be, and Flemish at that, lad,” Dan 
Rodney said to me. “Franky Drake would have us get 
news of them an it be there to get!” 

‘^Think you they’ll put up a fight?” I asked of him, 
but he grinned at me as he said: 

io6 




GARRISH: THE MYSTERY MAN 


“Never a finger, lad. We be carrying too many guns 
for Dutchmen to bark at us.” 

In which Dan Rodney proved wrong, for when we 
came within gunshot distance and sent a ball or two 
flying over the boats, to bid them heave to, they saucily 
answered us in kind, whereat Captain Larby grew some¬ 
what angry. 

“Bring down the sails of one of ’em!” he roared, 
and as it fell out it was our gun—Dan Rodney’s, that 
is—that had had the work to do. Now I had been put¬ 
ting in some practice under direction of Rodney, and, 
since this was but small fry, I had little difficulty in get¬ 
ting permission to fire the shot. 

“Take your time, lad!” Dan said. “Let’s see what 
I’ve taught ye!” 

I took my aim with wondrous care and with not a 
little trembling—trembling that left me when the touch- 
light jabbed at the powder and the ball screamed out of 
the cannon’s mouth; and a cry of joy went up from our 
men as the mainsail of the highest flyboat toppled out¬ 
board. 

“Well shot, lad!” roared Dan Rodney. “ ’Twill show 
’em we’re in earnest!” 

We loaded up again while the Roaming Death went 
sweeping forward, but there was no need for further 
shooting. Both boats hauled to. We came up with 
them at last and bellowed for their commanders to come 
aboard. 

The which they did in fear and trembling, and Master 

107 




THE FLAMING CROSS OF SANTA MARTA 


Larby did question them in such a way that had I been 
one of them I do think I would have knocked him down 
on his own deck. But such questioning had its effect, 
for those two Flemings, cringing Tore Larby, told all 
he wanted to know—that we should meet no Spanish 
vessels an we did not go into harbor to find them, but 
that ’twas known very well in Spain that we were out, 
and ’twas believed we were thinking less of Spain than 
of the Main. And one other thing, too—to wit, that 
the news had gone forth that we had some designs on 
the Grand Canary. 

“By the singed beard of Philip!” roared Larby, 
“ ’twill be a bad knock for Franky Drake when he hears 
that! Here, get you gone overside now, and know this: 
that an you meet a Don tell him there’s no sacking of 
the Canary. There be bigger fish than that to fry!” 

Whereat you may assure yourself that Larby was not 
altogether sober at that moment, otherwise he would 
not have confirmed the news in one breath and contra¬ 
dicted it in another. However, those Flemings swore 
a great oath that they would do as they were bid, and 
very glad I could see they were when they dropped into 
their boats and were rowed over to their vessels. 

As for us, we tacked about to allow the main fleet 
to catch up with us, and then Larby went aboard the 
Defiance. There was a bad to do there, as I do know, 
who went with the captain. Hawkins was there from 
the Go-vldndy for it seems there had been somewhat of 
a council, and to Drake and Hawkins and their officers 

io8 




GARRISH: THE MYSTERY MAN 


gathered in Drake’s state cabin Larby told what he had 
learned. 

** ’Tis as I have said!” Hawkins banged the table as 
he spoke, until the bowls rang and the liquor was spilled. 
‘‘ ’Tis but wasting time and running risk we need not 
do to venture to the Grand Canary. The Dons will be 
ready for us. We’ll stand no more chance of landing 
than we would in reaching Madrid and-” 

“An I had Madrid as an object, I’d go there!” roared 
Drake, and I loved him for it. “ ’Tis the Grand Canary 
we’ll make for, no matter whether the Dons know or 
not!” 

Then they fell to much more of argument, but in the 
end it was Drake who prevailed; and when we went 
back to the Roaming Death it was with the knowledge 
that there was work to be soon doing, long before we 
reached the Main. 

It was not till then. I’ll have you know, that the crews 
had known of the project to raid the Grand Canary, 
and when the word was given there was much rejoicing 
amongst them. 

When we were but a few days’ sail from the islands 
much work of preparation was begun and carried on. 
Drake had laid his plans and issued orders that every 
ship should supply its complement of men to make up 
the fourteen hundred who were to form the landing 
party. And I tell you that my heart throbbed at the 
thought of the coming work, and I spoke heatedly, al¬ 
most fiercely, to Dan Rodney on the matter. 

109 





THE FLAMING CROSS OF SANTA MARTA 


^'Friend,” I said, *‘3x1 it be possible, speak you to the 
captain that I go with the attack!” 

Whereat Dan Rodney laughed hugely. 

“ ’Tis already done!” he told me. ‘T knew that you 
would want it, and so I arranged it. I go with you, too! 
’Twill be your baptism of fire, lad.” 

I wrung his hand for thanks, and prepared me forth¬ 
with. I took my father’s cutlass down to the armorer 
and saw that its edge was keened; I saw to it that I got 
a rare good pistol, and as for a musketoon, I left the 
choice of that to Dan Rodney, who wheedled round the 
armorer to good purpose on my behalf. 

And thus gayly armed I waited impatiently. 




CHAPTER VII 
AN EARLY REBUFF 


1 SLEPT not the night before the morning on which 
we made the Grand Canary, October i6, -but 
strode the deck beneath the star-splashed heavens. 
The blood of my father surged through my veins. I 
wanted to pay back for him some of the debt he owed 
the Dons for their treatment of him in the years gone 
by. 

Thus did I pass the night, knowing that within easy 
distance was the island that the morrow would see us 
attempting to land upon. 

“Roger,” Dan Rodney whispered to me, “you should 
sleep. The morning will need fresh men!” 

“Nay, I cannot sleep,” I told him. “For, friend of 
mine-” 

I stopped speaking, for at that moment there was a 
sudden glare from the forepart of the Roaming Death, 
which, I would have you know, had till that moment 
been in total darkness, like every other of the vessels of 
the fleet. 

Dan Rodney laid a hand upon my arm for silence, 
and next instant he and I together were racing towards 
the forepart. But before we reached it other men were 
running thither, and when we arrived it was to find a 

III 



THE FLAMING CROSS OF SANTA MARTA 


shattered keg, in which, so the smell told us, there had 
been gunpowder. 

‘‘There’s a traitor aboard!” some one shouted, and 
at the words the thought came to me, as it did to Dan, 
and we worked our way from the crowd and hurried 
below, questing Jack Garrish—the man we knew to be 
a traitor. 

As Dan Rodney and I tumbled down the hatchway, 
questing for Jack Garrish, the thought rioted through 
our minds that we should quite easily discover that 
Garrish was the man who had played so treacherously 
in the matter of giving a signal to the Dons on the far- 
off shore. Such great care had been taken that the 
ships should come within sight of the island under the 
screen of darkness, and lie there, lightless all of them, 
until the moment came for the landing to take place. 
And now the Spaniards must know we were there, and 
they would hasten forward with their preparations of 
defense—and, in any case, we had lost whatever ad¬ 
vantage we might have had from a surprise attack. It 
was disturbing and aggravating, to say the least; and 
I, for one, whatever Dan might be thinking, had it in 
my mind to condemn myself for carelessness in not hav¬ 
ing better carried out the duty of watching Garrish. 

I gripped my cutlass as I ran, though I had an idea 
that I might not need to use it yet, since I doubted me 
that Garrish would be in his place. 

In which, my masters, I proved wrong. For when 
jve came within decks, where the band of us was wont 


II2 


AN EARLY REBUFF 


to live, it was to see, by the dim gleam of a ship’s 
lantern. Jack Garrish lying fast asleep. 

Dan laid a hand on my arm, as though to restrain 
me; and as we stood there the sounds of the men above 
served to awaken those below, who sprang to their feet, 
Jack Garrish amongst them. 

‘‘What’s adoing?” voices asked, but neither Dan nor 
I, who took my cue from him, said aught, letting it be 
supposed that we had ourselves been aroused by the 
clamor above. And there was no time for any to say, 
even if they knew, for at that moment the call was piped 
of “Landing party on deck!” and those of us who 
had been chosen went up to the deck, Dan and I and 
Garrish amongst them. 

“Think you the rogue was shamming, Dan?” I asked 
as we walked together. 

“Likely enow,” said Dan. “But ’tis neither here nor 
there now. Roger, in this business that is about to 
begin, see to it that you haunt my footsteps. You be 
light-hearted and young and eager, but, lad, ’tis not a 
pleasure time, that of fighting the Dons, who, though 
we hate them, be not cowards, but brave men and 
sturdy.” 

“Thanks, Dan,” I said a little chokingly, for I read 
the tones of the man and knew that he was anxious 
for me. 

But I had little time to be anxious about myself, for, 
once on deck and gathered to listen to Captain Larby, 
we learned that since the fire signal by the traitor, who, 

113 





THE FLAMING CROSS OF SANTA MARTA ' 


despite the search made for him, had not been discov¬ 
ered—Dan refused to step forward and lay informa¬ 
tion against Garrish, whom even now he did not wish 
to know that we were aware of his treachery—a signal 
had come from the Admiral’s ship ordering the landing 
parties to get ready, and for a number of the ships, the 
Roaming Death amongst them, to go towards the shore 
and bombard the beach to cover the landing operations. 

Thus it was that, every man being served out with 
weapons and ammunition, the Roaming Death moved 
inshore and, with the pearly dawn lighting the heavens, 
came within gunshot. 

Judge of our surprise—that is, of the surprise of 
those who had not known what Dan and I knew, that 
the Spaniards were aware this long time of our inten¬ 
tions—when it was seen that trenches had been cut and 
earthworks thrown up beyond the beach, and these were 
filled with soldiers, pikemen and musketeers, while be¬ 
hind them rode horsemen, armed and armor clad, with 
gun mouths poking aggressively seawards. Shots flew 
from these latter and whined amongst the sails in rare 
numbers that made us realize how difficult was the work 
in hand. 

But the covering ships essayed the task of dislodging 
the defenders, and our guns roared challenges the while 
a number of our boats set off for the shore—only to be 
raked with shot as they neared the beach and being 
forced to withdraw. Time and again was this work 
tried, only to be given up, so that, after much bombard- 

114 





AN EARLY REBUFF 


ing which did in truth some damage to the enemy, it 
was decided that ’twere best to draw off and report to 
the Admirals the position of things. 

Captain Larby it was who went to the Defiance with 
the news; and he went there in the boat in which Dan 
and I were posted, waiting to be rowed to the shore, 
but never going there. 

And I saw the look of triumph in the eyes of Jack 
Garrish, in the boat with us, when Captain Larby re¬ 
entered the boat and said something about Admiral 
Drake being sore distressed at affairs, and was going 
himself to the shore to make an inspection. 

^‘Though I do think there'll be no landing made 
here!" Larby growled. 

I looked behind and saw a boat being lowered from 
the Defiance, and saw Admiral Drake enter it. Where¬ 
upon, the signals having been given, the covering ships, 
and some additional ones with them, went inshore again 
and smothered the beach with gunfire while the Ad¬ 
miral made his inspection. 

But when Drake, having finished his examination, 
returned to the Defiance and sent the news around that 
the ships were to sail away, as no landing was to be 
attempted, there were murmurs and grumblings. 

Jack Garrish was loudest among these, a wet blanket 
in very truth, the kind of man who might do no little 
harm amongst a crew. 

I saw Dan’s eyes glint and half-close, and his lips 
press tightly together, and once or twice I saw his hand 

115 




THE FLAMING CROSS OF SANTA MARTA 


grope for his sword as Jack Garrish held forth to the 
crew between-decks while the ship was forcing her way 
through a tumultuous sea, in company with the others, 
making for the western extremity of the island, where 
it was intended to water. 

‘Tie!” he said, loud-mouthed. “Has Franky Drake 
lost his magic? Would to heaven Fd never come on 
this voyage, which looks fair to end with us all in a 
Spanish prison!” 

“Art white-livered already, man ?” Dan Rodney de¬ 
manded. 

And I do tell you that there was a look in Garrish’s 
eyes that I did not like. It was gone in a moment, how¬ 
ever, and he was the same casual, smooth-faced man as 
ever, with a smile about his mouth despite his lugubrious 
demeanor a moment before. 

“Nay, not white-livered, but of a mind that likes not 
the look o' things 1” he said. And I could see, looking 
around at the men, that his words found an echo in 
many minds. “Bah—while Drake and Hawkins quar¬ 
rel 'mongst themselves-” 

“Who told you that?” demanded Rodney like a shot. 

He was towering over Garrish, into whose eyes came 
that look of hatred that I was hard put to account for. 
And the man lost his temper at Dan’s threatening atti¬ 
tude. His hand shot out, and the clenched fist caught 
Dan on the chin, sending my comrade staggering back. 
Next instant, however, he had steadied himself and 
was upon the smiling man, fellows scattering away to 

Ii6 





AN EARLY REBUFF 


allow them room as they fell to. Aye, masters, that 
was a bonny fight indeed. Dan knew how to use his 
fists as well as he did a sword, and he gave Garrish no 
time to get at his weapon, being bent, as I could see, to 
avoid bloodshed, and only desirous of administering a 
thrashing that should make Garrish keep his ominous 
opinions to himself. Garrish, too, filled, for some 
reason I could not fathom, with hatred of Rodney, with 
whom hitherto he had been friendly, even comradely, 
fought hard and well, but was no match for Dan, who 
punished him dreadfully, fighting as fairly as any man 
ever fought. Not so Garrish, for there came a moment 
when, after a crack from the sweeping fist of my com¬ 
rade, he pulled himself together and sprang—and I, 
whose eyes had been fixed upon him, saw a glittering 
steel in his hand. 

“ 'Ware, Dan!" I cried, and sprang in as I spoke 
with my cutlass drawn. I used that cutlass as a man 
might a hatchet, and the two steels met, Garrish’s flying 
Yrom his hand. And next instant Dan had given him 
a blow on the chin point that sent him dropping to the 
deck, where he lay still and strangely quiet. 

We left Garrish lying there, I tell you, and went our 
ways up on to deck. The bos’n’s whistle shrilled, calling 
us to quarters, we not knowing what was afoot and not 
at all to have been surprised had it proved that we were 
to engage an enemy or two. Yet when we got to deck 
we found that ’twas only a case of boats out to water 
the ships, which were now nearing the western end of 

117 




THE FLAMING CROSS OF SANTA MARTA 


the Grand Canary. But for the moment there were sad 
things to worry the minds of us aboard the Roaming 
Death. 

Full-hearted we worked at getting the boats out and 
rowed us across to inhospitable land, with butts all ready 
for the water we sorely needed by now. But when the 
first boat from the Roaming Death was within range 
of the shore, being the leading craft of all, there were 
sounds of firing, and the water about us was spattered 
up by balls falling—and we knew that we should have 
to fight for the water we needed, and that at a place 
where we had least expected to do so, for the spot was 
far away from the haunts of men, or so ’twas thought. 
.We could see no one, and had expected that landing 
would be opposed by hidden soldiers. 

“Go ahead—pull, men!” roared Larby, who was in 
the boat with us. 

Another voice—that of Captain Grimston of the 
Solomon, riding abreast of us—shouted out a like order, 
so that the Solomon's boat and ours began a race for 
the first to land. We won—through a storm of shot 
which took somewhat of a toll amongst us. Yet we 
went on, springing ashore a few moments before the 
Solomons. Then we joined forces and went sweeping 
together towards the rocks and bowlders whence we 
knew the firing had come. And as we went more shots 
fell amongst us, and then, like rabbits scurrying before 
dogs, scores of wild-looking men went rushing from 
their hiding places. 


Ii8 




AN EARLY REBUFF 


‘‘Herdsmen they be!” panted Dan Rodney, who had 
been to the Canary before and knew what manner of 
folk lived in these remote places. “ ’Tis easier work 
than fighting soldiers, lad!” 

So I thought then, though I knew better soon. A 
few of those men went down before our own firing, but 
the main body of them managed to get away up a steep 
and rugged hill, and so disappeared from view as 
though they had dived them into caves. 

Gathered at the foot of the hill, Grimston and Larby 
held council, and decided to storm the position, if only 
to keep the enemy engaged while the rest of the ships’ 
boats landed and took in water. 

“Fool’s game,” muttered Dan Rodney in my ear. 

No one else heard him, and Dan himself was right 
amongst the first to begin to clamber up the hill, I 
hard upon his heels. No easy task was that, what with 
shifting stones and crumbling earth, and pattering balls 
from the enemy. Yet we managed, some of us, to get 
to the top, which we found to be level and good fighting 
ground. Well, in a manner, it was for us that ’twas so, 
else we had all been killed without a dog’s chance. 
Even so, it was grim work, and strange, for—ill-con¬ 
tent with fighting fairly as men to men—those Spanish 
herdsmen, finding that they could no longer lie hidden, 
called up strange allies to their aid; and as we fought 
them, with cutlass and sword and hook, there came 
yelping and baying into the melee scores of great 
hounds. 

119 




THE FLAMING CROSS OF SANTA MARTA 


Heaven, how we fought! Better armed though we 
were than the herdsmen, who had long heavy staves as 
well as guns—the latter they could not use now that we 
were hand to hand—we suffered ill at their hands. I 
saw Grimston go down to earth beneath a blow that 
must have cracked his skull, for he lay there still, never 
moving—and the tide of the fight went over him again 
and again. Others, too, suffered a like fate, and I saw 
Dan Rodney stagger back as a stave smashed into his 
face. I sprang to his side, cutting down the Spaniard 
who had struck him—but not before another man had 
stuck me with a knife from behind. A dog snarled at 
my feet and sprang. I drove my short-held cutlass and 
the brute dropped before me, a Don falling over him 
and clawing at my ankles. The hands that gripped me 
sent me sprawling too. Dan it was who, with a muffled 
bellow of a roar, saved my life, I do believe, for in an¬ 
other moment one of those dogs would have had me had 
not Rodney slashed him fair across the back with his 
big sword. 

Yet, though we were so badly mauled, I would have 
you know that those Spanishers suffered not a little— 
in truth, they had such ill-handling that they were fain 
to call off their hounds and get them scurrying down 
t’other side o’ the hill. 

‘‘Back to th’ shore, men!” cried Larby, who was now 
in command of both crews. “ ’Tis no good following 
those rascals. Methinks they’ve had enough, too, and 
will worry us no more 1” 




CHAPTER VIII 

THE END OF THE “ROAMING DEATH” 


B ut Larby’s thought was a wrong one, for those 
herdsmen, seeing that we were going, took heart 
of courage and followed us, craftily, carefully, 
so that ever and anon we had to stop and face them and 
drive them back. Right down to the bottom they came 
after us, little caring, so it seemed, for the fact that 
there were scores of more men below to tackle them. 
Their dogs were with them, and they were worse foes 
than the men themselves. How we got to the bottom 
I cannot tell you, but we did so, with the herdsmen 
actually hanging on to our heels to the very water’s 
edge; for by ill-luck the other boats were far off and, 
so it would seem, had received instructions to proceed 
with their watering. 

And then a strange thing happened—a thing that 
made us gasp with astonishment and fear, as you may 
well understand when you know what I am now about 
to write. 

When we were at the bottom of the hill at last, we 
saw a boat put off from the Roaming Death, a boat 
filled with men, whom we doubted not were being sent 
to our assistance, and we took courage from the fact. 

I2I 


THE FLAMING CROSS OF SANTA MARTA 


The ship was riding at anchor some distance from the 
shore, well within gunshot, but unable to help us—^as 
we were mixed up so closely to the enemy—lest her 
shots kill us as well as the herdsmen and dogs. When 
we saw the boat coming we turned our backs to the 
shore and fought our way backwards foot by foot, the 
herdsmen courageously following us, knowing, as they 
did, that when they wished they could race for the 
shelter of their hills and caves. It was when we were 
halfway from the hill-foot to the beach that the start¬ 
ling thing happened. There was a terrific crash and a 
blaze of light that blinded the eyes even in the daylight, 
the air was filled with hurtling things—and those of us 
who could for our preoccupation turn, did so, and saw 
that the Roaming Death was no longer riding at anchor. 
She had disappeared—at least, what was visible of her 
must have been that flying debris and wreckage that 
was descending on sea and land over many and many 
a yard’s radius. 

*‘The ship has blown up!” roared Dan Rodney, while 
Captain Larby mouthed an imprecation that was cut 
short by a great stone that caught him full in the face 
and sent him a corpse to the ground. The herdsmen, 
astonished no less than we ourselves, had for a moment 
ceased fighting; but, realizing that whatever had hap¬ 
pened was in their favor, they came with renewed vigor, 
and we were hard put to it to preserve ourselves. In¬ 
deed, it was only the arrival of the boatload of men 
from the ship that saved us, for, landing, they raced to 

122 




THE END OF THE ‘‘ROAMING DEATH” 


our aid; and the herdsmen, realizing that they were 
likely to suffer no small damage at the hands of fresh, 
untired men, took to their heels and ran, calling their 
hounds after them. 

And so those of us who still lived found ourselves 
binding up wounds, as best we could, and chattering 
about the catastrophe that had happened. 

“Treachery!” said Dan Rodney to me. 

“And treachery means Jack Garrish 1” I said, looking 
about to see if the man were amongst those who had 
come off in the boat just before the explosion. 

And, sure enough, Jack Garrish was there amongst 
the newcomers from the poor old Roaming Death. 

Dan Rodney made a spring towards him. Garrish 
had his back turned and did not see the movement; but 
next moment there was something else to think about, 
for a pattering hail of shot came from the hill—^and 
then sounded the clatter of hoofs. We swung round 
as one man, and, having most of us reloaded our pieces, 
we fired at the troop of armored horsemen who were 
charging at us from round the hill. 

Many of them went down with their horses, and 
there was no little confusion, ’midst which we made for 
our boats and somehow scrambled in. Some there were 
who did not get in, being wounded and killed and falling 
into the sea, but the rest of us got in and rowed away 
towards the nearest ship, which was, as I did notice, 
a caravel of the name of the Francis. 

We got us aboard, and by this time the watering had 

123 




THE FLAMING CROSS OF SANTA MARTA 


been done and the ships were weighing anchor, so that 
presently we were at sea, sadder men and some of us 
not a little worried lest there might be some truth in 
the opinion of Jack Garrish, and men like him, that the 
voyage was doomed to disaster. 

Soon after we were out of sight of Grand Canary the 
Francis was ordered to send every man from the Roam¬ 
ing Death across to the Defiance, and when we arrived 
there we were gathered, all of us, on the deck, and 
Francis Drake put many questions to us, first as to the 
signal in the night and secondly as to the explosion that 
had brought destruction to the Roaming Death. 

Now long ere the message came from the Defiance 
Dan Rodney and I had spoken on these matters—and 
we had watched Jack Garrish closely, too. That it was 
he who had done both things we had little doubt, but 
there was nothing to prove it, and we, not wishing to let 
the others of our comrades into our secrets, had done 
naught in the way of asking questions which might have 
brought to light things that had been seen. 

‘‘Nay, lad, we’ll leave that to others. There’ll be ques¬ 
tions asked of a surety, and ’twere better that we still 
seemed ignorant, since the Admiral has ordered it that 
we let Garrish alone lest he be of use to us when we 
reach the Main.” 

So we had waited—and then found ourselves aboard 
the Defiance, no more than twenty of us, sole survivors 
of the crew of the Roaming Death. But spite of much 
questioning and not a little bullying—for I’ll have you 

124 




THE END OF THE ‘‘ROAMING DEATH” 


know that Francis Drake was a hard man an he liked! 
—naught was brought to light, so that the Admiral, in 
a terrible rage, swore he’d keep us all in irons and with¬ 
out food until some one confessed. 

“Faith 1” he cried. “One o’ you must be the man— 
’tis not like a traitor to stay aboard the ship that he 
blows up! He makes his ’scape, generally!” 

“Your Excellency,” put in Amos Breton, who had 
been first officer on the Roaming Death, and the only 
officer left alive of all of them, “I am willing to stay 
and take the punishment that you decree, since I’ll not 
desert my men, an it please you. And, faith, it is not 
to my liking that there should be a traitor amongst us; 
neither is it in my mind that the traitor will speak till 
forced to by some means. Such men are aye stubborn. 
Natheless, there do be this to remember—that an there 
were a traitor, he might have made his escape during 
the fight ashore, or mayhap have been killed there.” 

“You’re o’er-windy. Master Breton,” said Drake 
with a smile. “But there be some measure o’ sense in 
what you say. Natheless, ’tis into irons that ye all go 
to see what hunger and thirst ’ll do.” 

So we were all driven below-decks and ironed in dark 
holes, not all together, but in twos. 

“Dan,” I said to Rodney, who was my companion— 
I had managed, without any difficulty, to get the jailer 
to have us two together—“I’m not liking the idea of 
starving here until some one confesses. ’Tis a fool’s 

125 




THE FLAMING CROSS OF SANTA MARTA 


idea, to my mind 1 If Garrish did not do those two foul 
deeds, of a certainty we’ll all die!” 

‘'Aye, and so we shall if he did 1” was the grim reply. 
“Garrish ’ll never confess. But I’ve a mind that there 
be something more in’t than seems to the eye, lad I” 

Whatever it was that Dan believed, he did not en¬ 
lighten me, and we lay there all during that day. ’Twas 
the longest day that ever I lived through, I do think, 
what with the growing hunger and the thirst, and the 
dark foulness of our prison. I hated the irons about 
my wrists and legs. I hated everything and every one, 
and, as Dan Rodney told me afterwards, there came the 
time towards night when, growing light of head, I 
shouted my hatred of the Admiral himself who could 
have thrown into captivity two men who, at least, he 
must have known had had no part or lot in the 
treacherous matters. 

I must have gone off into unconsciousness, for I re¬ 
member naught, after a wild hopeless struggle with my 
irons, until I awoke to the feel of burning spirit in my 
throat and saw Dan Rodney bending over me with a 
lantern held close. 

“Lad, lad, I thought ye would never come round,” 
Dan said, with a gulp. “Does that feel better?” 

I struggled to a sitting posture, and my gathering 
wits told me that no longer were the irons upon me; 
and I remembered things. 

“Water!” I said. And never was man more grateful 
than I for the beaker of drink, cool and refreshing, that 

126 




THE END OF THE “ROAMING DEATH” 


was given me by a man whose face I did not see until 
that moment, and then knew that ’twas Francis Drake 
himself. 

“Faith, Roger,” the Admiral said, “you’ll be thinking 
me no good friend of yours, eh, to bring you to this?” 

At the sound of his voice, and at his words, I had a 
glimmering of the things that I had thought in my half 
madness, and flushed at the remembrance. Also I knew 
by the kindly tone in his voice that he had some feeling 
that certainly'was not anger. 

“Sir,” I said simply, “I did think ill of you, but beg 
forgiveness. A man thinks many things when he’s half 
mad with thirst.” 

With that he stooped and lifted me to my feet, sup¬ 
porting me out of the foul hole and up the companion- 
way until we reached his own state cabin, where he and 
Dan entered with me; and the door was fast closed be¬ 
hind us. 

I tell you, my masters, that I was in paradise then, 
for the table was spread with food and drink, to which, 
at the Admiral’s invitation, Dan and I fell with a hearty 
will, and did ourselves so well that Drake laughed at 
us and warned us that ’twas not good for men with so 
empty stomachs to fill themselves! Natheless, fill we 
did, and enjoyed it, without any ill-effects, except a 
sleepiness that came over me, but which was soon gone 
when the Admiral started to speak. For the news that 
he had was startling enough. 

127 




THE FLAMING CROSS OF SANTA MARTA 


“We’ve found the traitor,” he said shortly, and I 
started to my feet. 

“How so—and who?” I demanded. “ ’Tis Garrish, 
ril warrant me!” 

“Nay, but you’re wrong, lad,” Drake told me, and 
then proceeded to explain to our astonished ears what 
had happened. It appeared that the Admiral had, like 
Dan and me, suspected that the culprit was Garrish; 
but, because he did not wish to reveal his hand in the 
game lest it should after all be some other rascal, he 
had had all of us thrown into irons, hoping that Gar¬ 
rish, an it were he at the bottom of matters, would ad¬ 
mit his crimes. Now and again, as I myself did know, 
the jailers had looked in to see that the prisoners were 
all right and to question them as to their intentions. 
And at last, going to that part of the hold where Gar¬ 
rish and his companion in durance were confined, one of 
the jailers had discovered Garrish lying with his skull 
cracked and broken irons beside him. But of the other 
prisoner there was no sign, and when after a while Gar¬ 
rish recovered his senses he swore that the other man 
had produced a file and cut through his irons, promising 
Garrish to do the same to his if he kept silence. The 
which Garrish did, and then, so his tale ran, the man, 
having freed himself, brought his irons down on Gar- 
rish’s skull, knocking him senseless. 

“And, by my beard!” exclaimed Drake at the finish, 
“that other man, whom Garrish says the name of was 
Trenden-” 


128 





THE END OF THE ‘‘ROAMING DEATH’^ 


“I know him—a crafty, cunning rogue!” put in Dan 
Rodney. “Though I ne’er thought him a traitor 1” 

“Yet such he was,” said Drake, “for while he worked 
at the irons, so Garrish said, he vowed that ’twas he 
who had given the signal and fired the ship! And he is 
gone—in one o’ the starboard boats. There’s a man o’ 
the watch lying half dead, stabbed ere the villain went!” 

“A strange tale, sir,” said Dan Rodney. “How came 
the man able to leave the prison hold?” 

“Like as you might have done, Master Rodney!” 
said Drake, with a short laugh. “ ’Twas thought no 
need to lock ’em in, seeing that their irons were bolted 
down! As you say, ’tis a strange tale—passing strange, 
indeed.” 

“Think you, sir,” I hazarded, “that Garrish and 
Trenden were plotters together, and did fall out? Might 
it not be that they agreed to leave together, and Trenden, 
thinking it easier for one to slip past the watch than 
two, did clout Garrish over th’ head so that he should 
not give the alarm on being left alone, betrayed by his 
own fellow rogue?” 

“Roger, I never thought on’t,” the Admiral con¬ 
fessed. “And ’tis not at all an unlikely thing. But, 
even an it be so, we’ll let it pass, for I have it still in my 
mind that we’ll find some use for Master Garrish, who, 
since he is in the service of the Dons, may know some¬ 
what of their plans against us. And to that end we’ll 
save him—aye, we’ll save him till we’re ready for him. 

129 




THE FLAMING CROSS OF SANTA MARTA 


So ’tis back to the Francis ye shall all go, him with 
you/’ 

‘'An it please you-” Dan began, but the Admiral 

cut him short by going over to the locker wherein I had 
seen him, many months agone, place the copy of the 
chart drawn from the one scratched on Dan’s chest, 
and when he came again to us he had it in his hand. 
He spread it out on the table before us and pointed to 
the star mark that told of the place where had been 
hidden the Cross of Santa Marta. 

“Explain to me. Master Rodney,” he asked, “the 
route from Santa Marta and so up to that spot. May¬ 
hap it will save time and trouble some day. Who 
knows? The hazards of war are many. Faith, but 
sometimes I do think it were best that you stayed here 
on the Defiance with me, and but that I do want you 
to keep watch on Garrish it should be so. But him I 
am afraid to have aboard, lest his prying eyes and 
listening ears learn something that it were not wise that 
he should know. But come you with the explanation. 
Master Rodney.” 

Thereupon Dan proceeded to give such information 
as was wanted, the which Drake scrawled down on the 
back of the rough chart, I listening awhile and drinking 
in every word that was spoken, so that, even as I had 
that chart graven upon my mind, so I had all the rest 
of the matter written there against the time when it 
might be useful. 

And while the speaking was going on I heard a sound 

130 




THE END OF THE “ROAMING DEATH’’ 


above and glanced up at the light in the cabin ceil, but 
saw nothing. A while later—why, who shall tell?—I 
looked again. And as I did so I, breathless with sur¬ 
prise, clutched the arm of the carved chair in which I 
sat—a trophy from some sacked mansion on the Main, 
as I knew—^and then opened my mouth to cry aloud. 
But ere I could do so the vision that I had seen had died 
away. And when Drake, looking up from his task, 
saw me with my mouth opened and my eyes staring, 
foolish-like I doubt not, at the opening above, he cried: 

“What ails you, lad? You look as though you’ve 
seen a ghost!” 

I recovered myself with a start and sprang to my 
feet, making for the door as I did so. 

“ ’Twas no ghost, but a being of flesh and blood!” 
I exclaimed. “I saw the face of a man there of a surety, 
and he was listening I” 

At my words both Dan Rodney and Francis Drake 
sprang to their feet and dashed after me to the door, 
the Admiral grasping me by the arm and swinging me 
round to face him. 

“What mad words are these you’re saying, Roger?” 
he demanded. 

I told him in more leisured manner what I had seen, 
whereupon he flung open the door and the three of 
us went scampering like schoolboys up the steps to the 
deck. It could not have been more than two minutes 
from the time the man’s head had disappeared to the 
time when we stood at the edge of the light over the 

131 




THE FLAMING CROSS OF SANTA MARTA 


cabin, and we had gone as silently as men can in a hurry 
such as we were; but the man had disappeared. Drake 
moved round the edge of the opening, calling for the 
sentry who should have been there, and, doing so, nigh 
stumbled flat to the deck, tripped by something that in 
the darkness none of us had seen; and then going down 
on his knees he peered at whatever it was, at the same 
time calling in a loud voice for a lanthorn. 

At his words there came running feet, and a light 
appeared, and when he who carried it reached us and 
threw the beams they revealed to our astonished sight 
a man lying with a knife in his back. 




CHAPTER IX 


A FIGHT IN THE BELLYING SAIL 


W E stood, amazed and bemused, staring down 
at the man, whose face—although he was not 
dead, and whom the surgeon did keep alive— 
looked ghastly in the yellow light from the lanthom— 
and for my part, a cold shiver ran down my back. I 
knew that I was looking down upon the work of a 
desperate villain—I knew that I was seeing the work of 
the man, whoever he might be, whom I had seen peering 
into the cabin; and as I thought thus I remembered 
what, in my excitement, I had forgotten to tell. 

“Who-” I heard, as through a muffling cloak, 

the voice of Admiral Drake begin to speak, and at the 
instant I stepped forward. 

“Sir,” I said tremblingly, “the man who did that was 
Trenden, he who escaped but a while agone!” 

Drake swung round on me. 

“How know you that, boy?” he demanded. “The 
man went with the boat that was cut adrift.” 

“Then there be his double aboard, sir,” I told him. 
“For the face that I saw was, by token of the scar from 
his right eye to his chin, the face of Trenden, unless 
there be another man with such a scar aboard.” 

133 



THE FLAMING CROSS OF SANTA MARTA 


‘'Search the ship! Search the ship!” roared out 
Drake at that, and soon the vessel was ablaze with 
lanthoms, and great flares shot up into the night. 

For hours the hunt went on, until the dawn broke in 
red glory, and never a sign was found of the man 
sought. Every hold was searched, and still we found 
not Trenden, so that at last, weary men all of us, we 
gave up the hunt and did decide that he had chosen a 
watery end rather than suffer at the hands of justice, 
and swing at the yardarm. 

“Dan,” I said, when at last we came again to the 
upper deck and I had filled my lungs with God's fresh 
air that was like tonic from a surgeon's chest, “Dan, I 
do be out in deep waters in all this matter! First En¬ 
riquez seeking the chart you carry, then Garrish, and 
then this other man. Truly, 'tis a maze of wonder to 
me!” 

“Roger, my lad,” he told me slowly, “an you live 
with the sea as long as I have, and mix you in affairs 
with the Dons as often, you'll cease to wonder at aught 
that happens. Those same Dons be cunning as snakes 
and rich as the Indies, so that they can buy even Eng¬ 
lishmen to do their dirty work—as you have seen al¬ 
ready! If-” He broke off abruptly, then speak¬ 

ing again: “Lad, there be a storm brewing, an I know 
my weather.” 

He looked up at the bellying sails as he spoke, and, 
doing so, threw up a hand towards a mast, I following 
the direction. And when his voice roared out some- 

134 





A FIGHT IN THE BELLYING SAIL 


thing it was almost lost in mine, as I, too, cried aloud. 
And when he sprang for the lines I was hard at his 
heels, with scores of men down on deck looking at us, 
wondering, I doubt not, what mad thing had taken us. 

Mad, did I say? Nay, not mad, unless rejoicing is 
madness. For I at least was rejoicing as I scrambled 
up in the wake of Dan Rodney, since what I had seen 
when the bellying sail gave view was a man lying along 
the crosstrees—and, even at that distance, I had seen 
that his face was scarred from the right eye down to 
the chin! 

That the man had seen us was evident, for he raised 
himself from his crouching position and I saw that he 
held a pistol. Even as I climbed I realized that this 
was probably a weapon which he had taken from the 
sentry he had wounded. 

‘‘Look out, Dan!’' I cried. “He’s armed!” 

“Aye, I see that!” came back Dan’s answer; and I 
saw Rodney pull out his own pistol and cling to the 
lines, taking shelter behind the mast, while he saw to 
the priming. At that moment there came a crack from 
below—and I knew that some one had fired a musket, 
even before I saw Trenden’s left hand, with which he 
was retaining his hold, let go, so that he fell forward 
and was only saved from dropping to the deck by com¬ 
ing up against the sail, where, as a man might in a ham¬ 
mock, he lay, our view of him gone and only the shape 
of his body visible in the canvas into which he had 
fallen. 


135 




THE FLAMING CROSS OF SANTA MARTA 


But, if it meant that we could not see him, it did not 
mean that he couldn’t see us; as you will hear. Dan, 
by this time, had his pistol ready and was climbing 
again, I hard after him; but when we were within the 
jfpace of two men’s lengths of the canvas in which 
Trenden lay a hole appeared in the canvas, slashed by 
a knife, and next instant the man’s pistol spoke. 
Whether it was the man trembling with fear or the 
swinging of the sail I know not, but, firing at such close 
quarters though he did, he missed Rodney and the ball 
whistled between him and me; and then Dan had fired 
at the opening in the canvas, stopping only to do that, 
and then scurrying onward, so that he reached the spot 
ere Trenden’s cry had died away. 

I was close up with him, but had to stay behind a 
little while; Dan threw his legs over the crosstree, and 
I tell you, my master, it was a strange sight that met my 
eyes, when, Dan, having left the tree, I got on to it and 
looked into the bellying sail. For Dan Rodney was in 
that with his hands gripped around Trenden’s throat— 
as strange a fight in as strange a place as ever man saw. 

So strange was it that I wondered it could have been 
possible, and even in those tense moments I saw the 
explanation. Some of the ropes of the sail had been 
severed, either by clumsy shooting of Trenden or by Dan 
Rodney as he made for his man before he leaped into 
close quarters. To me, though, it did not matter how it 
had happened that two men could be, as it were, in a 
hammock fashioned out of a sail that for all its faults 

136 




A FIGHT IN THE BELLYING SAIL 


was still helping the ship along. What mattered to me 
most was that one of those men was the only man who, 
ever since I had been thrown upon an unfeeling world, 
had befriended me, and I knew that it was my part to 
do all that I might do to help him. 

The which I did. 

Dan, having thrust his pistol into his breeches pocket, 
had jumped into the fray with naught but his own 
strong hands to help him, whereas I saw that Trenden 
had a knife in his hand which proved as useless as his 
unloaded pistol, because not only did Dan Rodney clap 
tightening fingers around the man’s throat, but I, with¬ 
out any qualms on matters of fairness, lay over the 
beam, half in the sail and half out, and made aim with 
my pistol stock at Trenden’s head—giving it such a 
clout that the fellow yelped like a kicked dog. 

Then, even as I lifted my hand to repeat the blow, 
there came a sound of tearing, and Trenden and Dan 
Rodney went dropping through the sail. I knew on 
the instant what had happened. The hole that the 
traitor had slashed through the canvas had enlarged 
itself as the two men fought and struggled. I hung 
over the beam, stared down through the overdipping 
ends, my heart in my mouth. To me it mattered little 
what might happen to Trenden; it was Rodney that I 
liked not the fate of. 

I tell you, my masters, that I could have wept like a 
big baby when I saw Dan Rodney hanging like a climb- 

137 




THE FLAMING CROSS OF SANTA MARTA 


ing cat to the ratlines just below while Trenden went 
to the deck, tumbling over and over. 

“Hold on, Dan,” I cried, and dropped from the beam 
back on to the lines, down which I scrambled, reaching 
Rodney at last and finding that what I had thought had 
happened by a deliberate effort on his part, had really 
been the result of an accident—an accident which al¬ 
though it meant pain and a broken arm for Dan Rodney, 
at least meant the saving of his life. Having fallen 
out of the broken sail, he had flung out a hand, the 
hand that had been grasping Trenden's throat, and had 
been caught up by a ratline, so that he was suspended 
in mid-air for a moment also, during which he had man¬ 
aged to obtain a foothold as well, which took the bur¬ 
den off the arm which was curiously curled about the 
line. 

“Hold on, Dan,” I said again when I reached him, 
and then wondered what I could do, for my puny 
strength and my unseamanship were not equal to the 
task of helping him down. Yet I need not have worried 
overmuch, because by this time those down on deck who 
had seen us racing up the mast and had since seen the 
accident were coming up towards us, so that very pres¬ 
ently it was possible to loosen Dan from his danger. It 
was a terrible journey down to the deck weighted as 
we were with Dan, who had actually swooned away, 
but we managed to do it, and at last were on the deck 
close beside the heap that once had been Trenden. 

“Heigho, there!” came a loud voice, and turning 

138 




A FIGHT IN THE BELLYING SAIL 


round I saw Francis Drake himself, awaiting an ex¬ 
planation. 

‘‘What’s to do?” he asked. I told him in a few 
words and simple, whereat he gave orders that Dan 
should be taken down to the surgeon, I with him, and 
there I waited whilst Dan was recovering his senses, 
and his arm was slung and having all the comfort that 
was possible for him. 

“Lad,” said Dan Rodney, when he was able to take 
an interest in things, “that was a narrow thing! How 
fares Trenden?” 

I told him that the man was dead. 

“It is a pity, Dan,” I said, “because that means we 
will never know whether ’twas Trenden who showed the 
signal and blew up the Roaming Death/* 

“No, Roger.” 

Dan told me there would be no need to worry on that 
score. “Why should Trenden try to kill two men? It 
is as plain as a pikestaff that ’twas he.” 

“And we were wrong all through about Master Gar- 
rish?” I asked wonderingly. 

“That’s as may be, Roger,” Rodney said. “Though 
I doubt not that these two were somewhat of friends. 
Natheless, ’tis not altogether a sorry thing since we let 
Garrish know what was happening, and that the traitor 
has been found. He will have the opinion that he is 
safe and not suspected, which, an I know aught about 
it, is what the Admiral would have happened!” 

We were speaking in low voices as we two were in 

139 




THE FLAMING CROSS OF SANTA MARTA 


the cabin together, for we had learned that even the sails 
of ships have ears. Aye, voices too, because, low as we 
spoke, we spoke not soft enough. I had not heard the 
door open and I heard a voice, the voice of Francis 
Drake, say: 

‘^Yea, Master Rodney, that be the very truth, but 
^twere wise that you did not speak these matters above 
a whisper. How fares the arm ? The surgeon says it 
is, after all, but a simple breakage.” 

‘T hope it is, sir,” Dan said, walking across the 
floor. 

He pulled up short before the Admiral and went on 
speaking softly: 

“Sir,” he said, “it might serve a good purpose, an 
it has not already been done, to make a search of 
Trenden, lest he have aught upon him of value to us.” 

“It has been done, Master Rodney,” said Drake with 
a wry smile. “And in truth there were found on him 
papers that told plainly enough that he had been bought 
of the Dons, to do all that he could to upset us, both by 
such deeds as those already done, and also by sowing 
disaffection amongst the men. Ah, well, his chances 
be gone, and he too! Feel you fit. Master Rodney, to 
go aboard the Francis with the rest o* the men who’re 
even now in th’ boat ready?” 

“Garrish amongst them?” Dan asked crisply. The 
Admiral told us that Garrish was there also; aye, and 
he told us, too, that all the crew had been informed of 
the treachery of Trenden, which, so it seemed, had been 

140 



A FIGHT IN THE BELLYING SAIL 


of mighty relief to Garrish, to judge by the look on his 
face when the news was given. 

‘‘He suspects naught/* said Francis Drake. “This 
much is in our favor for a while until we come into the 
west: he can do little harm in the way of giving in¬ 
formation to the Dons. Natheless, watch him well!” 

Somehow, despite the hope in the AdmiraFs words, 
there was something in his tones that made me run cold 
adown the back—^missing was that care-free trait that 
I had grown used to, and besides, there were lines upon 
his face as though he spent much time in anxious 
thought. And his eyes were the eyes of a man who was 
seeing many things other than those that appear close 
before us, and I told myself that there must be more 
than a little truth in the tales I had heard of dissension 
between Drake and Hawkins, and disaffection amongst 
the crews, bred of the disaster at the Canaries. To tell 
the truth, I too was feeling not at all joyful over affairs; 
there seemed to be too many cross-currents for my 
liking, as I knew there were for Dan’s. Such thoughts 
as these passed through my mind as Dan and I followed 
the Admiral from the cabin, and so arrived on the deck 
of the Defiance, and entered the boat, rocking idly over¬ 
side, waiting to take us across the waters to the Francis, 

Men of the Defiance waved us farewell, and as I 
looked back and saw Drake standing on the poop, I 
little imagined that it was to be the last time I should 
see my Admiral, though I still had that strange feeling 
of unknown terrors—a feeling which, as you will see, 

141 




THE FLAMING CROSS OF SANTA MARTA 


my masters, was not a foolish one, though I do admit 
that I have no explanation of it. 

There were more sorrowful hearts than mine in the 
fleet when we lost sight of the Canary to the east and 
set full sail for the west, though, as the weeks passed 
by, and naught further distressful happened, that feel¬ 
ing wore off to a great extent. Especially to me was 
that voyage of a month across the Atlantic a pleasurable 
one, for the bite of the winds, the health-giving scent 
of the seas, the free easiness of life aboard ship, all these 
things served to fill a young heart with something other 
than forebodings; and I had forgotten my premonitions 
by the time that the fleet, without having met any un¬ 
toward events, fetched the Windward Islands, on the 
27th October, when we first sighted Martinique. During 
all this time, as you may guess, we had kept silent and 
careful watch on Garrish, but nothing had happened to 
cause us further anxiety, while the man himself had 
completely recovered from the effects of the blow from 
Trenden’s chains. Dan Rodney, too, had made good 
progress, although he still carried his left arm in a sling, 
and often growled to me that he feared he would be a 
stayer aboard the ship when others were fighting their 
way on land to the treasures of the Main. 

Never shall I forget that night when we came in 
sight of the islands; many a storm had I passed through 
since leaving England, but the gale that raged that 
night was greater than any of them, and every man was 
kept hard at work, helping the gallant little Francis — 

142 




A FIGHT IN THE BELLYING SAIL 


she was of no more than thirty-five tons, a mere cockle- 
boat compared with some of the fine ships in the fleet 
—fight the storm. It was a terrible night, indeed, and 
often I thought that the end had come as the vessel 
plowed into the troughs of the water, or mounted the 
crests of the great waves, heeled as though she would 
turn turtle, and then, as by a miracle, righted herself, 
and drove her nose into the teeth of the wind. Yet 
the tight little ship lived through that night of terror, 
and we, who had scarce hoped to see daylight again, 
did at last witness the dawn break in the graying east. 
But there were some things that we did not see, and 
they were many of the ships in company with which 
we had till then been sailing. 

Six of them were missing, amongst them the 
Defiance, and not a man of us all did not wonder what 
fate had overtaken them. Hawkins’s ship was with us, 
and, as we discovered, it had been arranged that in case 
of a separation of this kind, rendezvous should be kept 
off the southeast coast of Guadeloupe, whither, with 
the storm somewhat abated, course was set. 

And now I come to what to me, at least, was the 
greatest tragedy of all. Some things of it you will find 
in the accounts written by the scribes who set down 
history for posterity: but there be others which you 
may search for in such records and find no mention 
other than this from an imperfect pen. Yet I, who 
was there and witnessed them, aye, took part in them, 

143 




THE FLAMING CROSS OF SANTA MARTA 


and whose life thereafter was thrown in strange places 
because of them, do tell that which I know. 

Now I would have you know that the Francis was a 
fast sailer, and, so I had been told, had often enough 
shown clean heels to chasing Dons; but, as with men, 
so with ships, there comes a time when fate decrees 
the end. 

It was on the 30th of October, an I remember cor¬ 
rectly, and the Francis was a long distance behind the 
rearmost ship of Hawkins’s squadron. Like sails of 
fishing boats we had seen the sails of our companions 
dip over the horizon and were plowing our way through 
fairly calm seas when there came to our sight again 
tops of ships. 

“We be catching up wi’ them, lad,” Dan Rodney 
said to me. 

We lay on the deck armed like all the rest, for I’ll 
have you understand that since we entered these seas 
we had been all ready for fighting, knowing not when 
we might fall in with Spanish vessels. 

“Aye, we be so,” said a man near us. “And it be a 
good thing, too, for I like not the thought o’ being 
on one ship that might fall amongst Spanish thieves! 
I ha’ been in like corner afore!” 

I turned and looked at him, and recognized him for 
a man we called One-Arm Barton, as merry a rover 
of the seas as you could hope to meet, whose tales of 
the Main had often kept me awake well into the night, 
since I had been aboard the Francis, And I knew it 

144 





A FIGHT IN THE BELLYING SAIL 


was not cowardice, but knowledge, that made him 
speak so. 

“Well, there be no fear o’ that, now,” I told him 
laughingly. 

Looking up I saw the sailormen busy with the sails, 
clapping on more canvas, so that the ship should take 
advantage of every puff of wind to enable her to close 
up with our consorts. 

So while we were racing onward the men fell, as 
was their wont, to telling stories of other days and 
other ventures, and I listened with ears agog, forgetting 
all of the present in gloating over the past. Until 
there came a shout from the lookout man that sent us 
every one scrambling to foot, and whipping out 
weapons, while the gunners padded to their guns, and 
the ship became a buzzing hive. 

“Spaniards ahead!” 

That was the cry of the watch, and when the captain 
came racing up on the deck to see what all the commo¬ 
tion was about he verified the news. 

We had been gayly romping toward ships that we 
thought were our consorts and, coming within gun¬ 
shot distance, had discovered that we had run our 
necks into as great a danger as any ever could. For 
there were five Spanish frigates, great fighting ships, 
bearing down upon us; and, even as we turned to flee, 
we saw puffs of smoke break from their sides, and 
soon balls were throwing up spouting water all about 
us. 

145 




THE FLAMING CROSS OF SANTA MARTA 


‘^Men roared our captain, as brave a man as ever 
trod oak, “ ’tis a matter for fighting, since we'll never 
give these Dons the slip. You’ll fight like good men 
and true!” 

‘Aye, aye!” they roared back in reply; and our guns 
answered those of the Spanishers, who made a circle 
about us, and smothered us with metal that bored holes 
in our sides and brought down our mast about our 
ears. Yet, still did we fight on and on, with decks 
gory. Those of us who were not working the guns 
were made to stay below, I amongst them, though I had 
rather been above. 

As if my wish had been heard, there came the mo¬ 
ment when shouting voices called down for gunners, 
and Dan Rodney and I, since that was our duty, went 
speeding up on to deck in answer to the call, to find 
that one of the guns had had its crew killed. Where¬ 
upon Dan fell to work with a will, and I no less behind 
him. Stripped we were to the waist, and I wondered 
greatly, even in those tense moments, that Dan should 
have discarded his shirt and left his chest exposed with 
the chart plain to be seen by all who would look at him. 

“Dan,” I panted, as we reloaded after a shot that 
had knocked the foretop off one of the Dons, “ ’tis the 
end o’ the quest!” 

“Aye, Roger, the end,” he replied, looking down at 
his hairy chest. “And there be not time now, lad, but 
if aught happens to me I pray you draw a sharp knife 

146 





A FIGHT IN THE BELLYING SAIL 


across this chart so that none may read it. Hast seen 
aught of Garrish of late?’^ 

‘‘Not since the fight began,” I told him, firing off 
the gun that he had laid again. “ ’Twas well laid, 
Dan!” I cried, as I saw another sail go by the board. 

How Dan Rodney had worked the gun I know not, 
with one arm in the sling, but he had done it, I helping 
him. But the time came when he could do no more, 
for a close-ranged shot of case scattering about the 
deck cut Rodney down and left him at my feet, bleeding 
from a wound in his side. 

“Fight the gun, Roger, fight the gun!” he called out, 
and, impressing a man near at hand, I put myself to the 
task, not a little pleased when I saw that one of my 
shots had cut right through a Spanish mast, sending 
it toppling. 

But that was my last shot, for something that seemed 
like a hot brand sped across my forehead, and I went 
tumbling over Rodney who lay still where he had fallen. 

What happened thereafter I cannot tell from having 
seen, but from what was told me later when I opened 
mine eyes and started up, only to tumble back because 
my head seemed too heavy for my body. 

I lay for a while, gathering wits amazed at the silence 
of everything, compared with the din of battle that had 
been in my ears as I dropped off into unconsciousness. 
Then the moan of a dog in pain came to me, I raised 
myself more carefully, coming to rest on my elbow, 
and, as my vision cleared, I saw Dan Rodney lying not 

147 





THE FLAMING CROSS OF SANTA MARTA 


far from me. A moan came from him. I got me to 
my feet and staggered across to where he lay, bent 
down beside him and drew away again, a great cry 
coming to my lips as I did so. 

And, heaven forgive me, I cursed the Dons and Jack 
Garrish with them. As well I might, for where once 
there had been a chart on the chest of Dan Rodney, 
there was now but a criss-cross patch of blood-red 
marks, which blotted out the image. I think I must 
have been mad in those moments, for I raved and 
cursed again, forgetting that my work was to see what 
I could do for Dan Rodney. I gazed about the sham¬ 
bles, questing for a sight of Jack Garrish, yet knowing 
in my heart that he would not be there. How came it 
that the chart had been spoiled forever in such a callous 
manner ? 

For I knew that the secret for which the Dons had 
been questing so long must have been wrested from 
Rodney, and we who had come to use the secret lay 
hopeless on a wide and empty sea as but one look 
around told me, there being no sign of a sail distant 
or near. 

And, moreover, the Francis lay like a helpless dere¬ 
lict with sails down and a great list to starboard so 
that it seemed she must soon go diving to her grave, 
and I and Dan, and who else there might be alive, with 
her. 




CHAPTER X 

“DEAD MEN EVERYWHERE” 


I HAVE told you, my masters, of the madness that 
seized me when I gazed down upon the mutilated 
chest of Dan Rodney; but it was a madness that 
soon left me—left me strangely calm and able to think 
clearly. 

“Poor wretch!” I muttered, as I stooped once more 
and listened to his heart, my own leaping within me 
when I found that he still breathed. Whereupon I 
went below deck, never stopping to look at those other 
huddled and stark figures up there, none of them mov¬ 
ing. I had a plan in my head which was to find some¬ 
thing to try to revive Dan with, and I went to the 
surgeon’s cabin, wondering what I should find there. 
I found him dead across the body of some poor wretch 
whom, I doubted not, he had been tending when a shot 
killed him. 

Phials there were of many a kind, and I stood and 
looked at them wondering what it was that I could do 
that I might give Dan something that, instead of re¬ 
viving him, might complete the work the Dons had 
begun. Then I saw written something that I remem¬ 
bered having seen on a flask when, back in Bristol, the 

149 


THE FLAMING CROSS OF SANTA MARTA 


surgeon had ministered to me. It was with a shout of 
joy that I took it from the case and carried it, like a 
precious treasure, up on to the deck, pausing only to 
get me a flagon from the captain’s cabin, a flagon of 
spirit. 

Stooping beside Dan, I moistened his parched and 
swollen lips with the burning stuff, and then, weakening 
it with water, poured some down his throat, so that 
presently he heaved a sigh and I felt the blood running 
more quickly through his body and his heart beating 
faster. Then I applied the liquid from the phial on to 
the vivid flesh, and remembering how cool it had been 
to me in those far-off days, felt no little relief now 
as I told myself that it was soothing, no doubt, to my 
comrade. 

I washed the wounds thoroughly, pausing every now 
and then to give more of the reviving liquor from the 
flagon, and then a new thought came to me. I remem¬ 
bered how Dan had been shot down, and I quested 
for the wound. I found it, a hole in his side, but I 
breathed with relief when, even with my little knowl¬ 
edge of such things, I saw that the ball had missed the 
bone and plowed through the hip. 

That wound also I doctored as best I could, and lost 
all count of time, though it seemed an age to me ere 
my eyes joyed to see those of Dan Rodney open a little, 
and then close again as though the light of the sun 
were too much for them. 

‘‘Dan!” I whispered, and the eyes opened again. 

150 




‘^DEAD MEN EVERYWHERE"' 


‘‘Roger!” came the feeble word in reply, and I do 
admit that I wept at the hearing of it. 

Nevertheless, I ceased not my efforts, and knowing 
that it would not do for Dan to speak, stopped him 
when he essayed to do so; whereupon he lay quiet, never 
wincing at my clumsy doctoring as I toiled over him 
for yet a while longer, finally binding up the chest as 
best I knew how, with much of the healing liquid on 
the rough pad I placed there. 

“Roger—your own wound!” came the words from 
Dan then, as his gathering senses and his clearing eyes 
enabled him to take somewhat of interest in things. 

I do confess that till then I had forgotten my own 
wound, though there was enough of pain to at other 
times have set me no doubt to groaning with it! Now, 
I felt my head, and found that a deep groove was there 
from front to back along one side. 

“Fll doctor it, Dan!” I said, with a laugh that was 
the very mockery of mirth. And did so, the while I 
gazed about the deck. ... A very shambles and a 
wreck indeed. 

I finished my surgery, and then, seeing that Dan 
was as comfortable as I could hope him to be, moved 
amongst the dead men, hoping to find some that lived. 

And out of them all I found but two, and they not 
wounded but sick men below deck. 

Believe me, my masters, I became a grown man in 
that time; somehow, too, I forgot my own weakness. 
It was as if the knowledge that, of the four left alive 

151 




THE FLAMING CROSS OF SANTA MARTA 


on that doomed ship, I alone was able to move about 
freely had given me added strength. My head became 
clearer, and having soon done what I could for the 
fevered men, I went me back on deck and sat beside 
Dan Rodney, trying to make a plan for doing some¬ 
thing. 

Dan was asleep, and when I bent over him I was 
glad to find that it was more easy sleep than before, so 
that I left him untouched, preferring to let what I had 
already done take its full effects on him. I bethought 
me of food and drink—and going below found some 
stores; as I looked at them the thought came to me that 
it was idle to remain on a listing ship which might go 
to the bottom at any moment, and certainly could not 
withstand anything of a rough sea. I went on deck 
again and round the ship, finding, to my great relief, 
one boat that had escaped the devastating fire of the 
Dons. 

‘‘ ^Twill do!” I muttered. “ ’Tis, at any rate, better 
than staying here I” 

Then I began to carry out my plan. I took a length 
of wood wherewith, in due time, to fashion a mast, 
and cut off lengths of canvas from the ruined sails. 
These I put into the boat with as many stores and as 
much water as I could manage to find room for, after 
allowing for the four of us who lived. I searched 
for arms, and found them, and some powder and shot, 
which I wrapped in sheltering covers and placed in the 
boat. Then I went below to the sick men, and made 

152 





‘‘DEAD MEN EVERYWHERE” 


them understand what I wanted to do. Sick though 
they were they roused themselves, and I helped to 
wrap them up in warm clothes, for I knew the danger 
that lay before them of being in an open boat. Weak 
they were and tottering, but they got them on to the 
deck, where I roused Dan Rodney and told him my 
plan. 

How much of it all he understood I know not. 

“Do what you will, Roger!” was all that he said, 
and never a word of pain did he utter as we three, sick 
men all of us, lifted him and carried him to the boat, 
placing him in as gently as we could. Then I chose a 
man who seemed fitter of the two to help me lower 
away the craft, making the other get in the boat with 
Dan. 

I tell you ’twas with relief that I saw the boat touch 
the water and knew that, at least, that difficult task 
was done. Whereupon we two others did clamber 
down the holed side of the poor Francis and take our 
places in the boat, I at once taking the oars and rowing 
away from the doomed vessel. 

“An you know how,” I said to the man who had 
helped me lower the boat, “rig you up a sail 1 ” And I 
pointed to the wood and the canvas. 

It must be that danger acts like a tonic to a sick 
man, for that fellow, by name of Abel Cooke he was, 
set to work, trembling though he was with the fever, 
and toiled at doing what I could not do from inex¬ 
perience, so that after many hours, during which some- 

153 




THE FLAMING CROSS OF SANTA MARTA 


times I rowed and sometimes gave him a hand, we made 
some progress toward the west—as I knew by the posi¬ 
tion of the sun. Long ere the task was over, however, 
we had seen how well advised had been my plan of 
leaving the Francis, for, within half an hour of taking 
to the boat, we saw the ship we had just left go down 
beneath the surface. And I thanked heaven that had 
helped us to get away, for at least we stood a chance 
of living yet awhile longer and, haply, of being picked 
up by some passing vessel—though I do confess that 
I had little hope that it would be other than a Don. 

For three days we roamed that unknown sea—^three 
days during which I tended my companions with what 
skill I possessed, though I do know now that it was 
providence and the virile strength of those men that 
kept them alive, rather than my ignorant efforts. Three 
days, too, during which we saw neither ship nor land, 
but always were going westward, setting course by the 
sun by day and the stars by night, and thankful for 
our imperfect sail since we had not to labor at the oars. 

And during that time I did learn from Dan, in fitful 
spurts when he could talk, or I would allow him to, the 
story of what had happened on the Francis after I had 
gone down to deck. 

Dan had been conscious, though weak from loss of 
blood, and he had seen all that took place. The frigates 
had gathered round like vultures about their prey, 
and the Francis had been silenced, boarded and cap¬ 
tured. The living men of her crew had been taken 

154 




‘‘DEAD MEN EVERYWHERE’^ 


aboard the Spanish ships, Jack Garrish amongst them; 
but ere Garrish went Dan, who had been deprived 
of what weapons he had on him, had been dragged 
before an officer. 

“And Roger,” Dan said softly, “an you dream a 
thousand dreams you’ll never dream what ’twas that 
rogue did say to the officer!” 

“Nay, I am past dreaming, I think,” I told him. 
“What was it?” 

“This!” said Dan, and you will understand with 
what amazement I listened to the words that followed. 
“Jack Garrish—bah—” Dan laughed feebly as he 
spoke the word. “Garrish took from his eye the shade 
patch that covered it during the months we had known 
him, and peered down into my face, mockingly laugh¬ 
ing at me. 

“ ‘Know you who I am. Master Rodney?’ he asked 
me, and I cursed him for a villainous traitor. 

“ ‘Nay, not a traitor to England, but a loyal man to 
Spain!’ he said, laughing still. ‘An I could crop this 
ragged beard of mine, mayhap you would recognize 
one called Enriquez!’ 

“I tell you, Roger,” Dan went on, as I stared at 
him with wondering eyes, “ ’twas a shock that left me 
speechless, though Enriquez and the other Don, to 
whom he showed some paper that he pulled from his 
jacket, were wordy enow, and laughing all the time. 
Then, before I could recover myself to speak, Enriquez, 
for that it was he I doubt not, had spoken again to me. 

155 




THE FLAMING CROSS OF SANTA MARTA 


“ ^Master Rodney/ he said, ‘an you will tell the 
meaning o’ the chart you, aye, and that cub with you, 
shall be taken off this ship with the rest of the crew. 
Is that not so?’ he turned and asked the officer, who 
nodded agreement.” 

At this point, eager though I was to know more of 
the amazing matter, I refused to listen further, be¬ 
cause it was plain to me that Dan had spoken long 
enough for the time being, and so I had to wait, and 
turn over in my mind what he had already told me, 
as surely as strange a story as ever man heard. To 
think that we had lived with Enriquez for all those 
months and known it not! Yet, ’twas not so passing 
strange, because after all we had seen but little of him 
before, but fleeting glimpses in moments of fierce 
action against him, except that time when he had stood 
in the dim light in Drake’s cabin. The memory of that 
time made me wonder what Drake would have said 
had he been with us to hear Rodney’s story, and the 
thought of Drake set me to thinking again, as I had 
thought often during those last three days, how fared 
the fleet. Truly, matters had moved with swift passage! 

I was all anxious to hear the rest of Dan’s story, 
but it was fated to bide awhile longer, for heaven again 
proved kind to us that afternoon, and in the excitement 
of things I almost forget everything else but the fact 
that succor, for which we had longed and prayed and 
looked, had come to us. 

For afar off on the horizon, and, so it seemed to us. 




“DEAD MEN EVERYWHERE” 


setting a course in our direction, there appeared a sail, 
so that I stood me up in the boat and shouted myself 
hoarse. A foolish thing to do, since the ship was too 
far off even for a gun’s fire to have been heard! Yet, 
such foolish things will men do at such times. We 
set our own course so that we should cut closely across 
that of the coming vessel, caring little, I fear me, 
whether she should prove to be English or Spanish, 
or what not; all that mattered was that she was a ship 
and would take us aboard—for even if she were Span¬ 
ish we doubted not that we should be taken, although 
that would mean being thrown into prison on shore in 
due course. 

Slowly we drew nearer and nearer together, and with 
every yard our excitement ran higher. We thanked 
heaven again and again for our sail, which must prove 
a signal, since ’twas passing strange indeed that so 
small a craft should be a-sailing on the wide seas. 
That strange vessel was like a sign from heaven to us. 
We feasted our eyes upon her and shouted—^aye, even 
the fevered men shouted as we came closer to her, and 
the three of us waved jackets in the air to attract 
attention. 

And presently we knew that we had been seen; we 
dropped, exhausted men, into our boat and waited for 
the ship to come up with us, which she did after a 
while, a boat being cast off to make an examination 
of us. 

My masters, imagine our feelings as we saw that boat 




THE.FLAMING CROSS OF SANTA MARTA 


coming toward us. Did it mean salvation and freedom 
—or did it mean a mere saving from the seas in ex¬ 
change for a Spanish prison? We stared like wild 
men trying to pick out the features of the men in the 
boat, and at last I gave a great shout: 

’Tis an English ship, masters!’^ I cried. 

“St. George and Merry England!” we all raised our 
voices in the great battle cry of Francis Drake, and 
then wept tears of joy, which were streaming down our 
cheeks when the new-coming boat reached us. The 
sight of English faces, when we had expected Spanish, 
was almost too much for us, and this, added to the ex¬ 
posure of three days in an open boat, caused us to break 
down utterly. 

“Ahoy, there!” came the good old rousing cry. 
“Who are you?” 

“Men of the Francis/' I shouted back. “Sunk by 
Spanishers 1 ” 

“The Francis/' cried the man who had first spoken. 
“What ship is that?” 

“An you will get us aboard, sir, we will tell you. 
Suffice for the present, though, a ship of Admiral 
Drake’s!” 

At the mention of Drake’s name, the newcomers 
peered over at us, and without another word threw 
us a line which I, without loss of time, lashed to our 
boat: and so with our own sail helping us, and the other 
boat lending a brave hand, we at last reached the ship 
which we had been watching for so long hopefully. 

158 




‘‘DEAD MEN EVERYWHERE’^ 


Never were men more pleased than we, when Dan 
Rodney, having been assisted by many willing hands, 
stood upon the deck of the ship. I had seen to it long 
ere this that Dan’s scarred chest was well covered up, 
but it needed no words of mine to tell our saviors that 
the man was ill. And even as I opened my mouth to 
ask that he should be taken to the hospital quarters, a 
man stepped from the crowd that had thronged the 
side and issued orders that Dan should be taken below. 

“Sir,” I said, striding toward him. “These two other 
men have need of care since they have the ship fever.” 
Whereupon both the sick men were escorted below. 

“Young sir,” said the stranger when this was done, 
“you, too, look as though you have need of care, and 
I do perceive that there be no small story behind all 
this.” 

“Sir,” I told him, “ ’tis no small story indeed, but a 
story that would make strong men weep, methinks.” 
And without more ado I plunged me into the telling of 
it, but ere I had gone far, a man pulled me up short. 

“Hold!” he exclaimed. “We will wait until we be 
down in my cabin and you have tasted something that 
will warm chilled blood.” 

So, with many wondering eyes gazing after me, I 
followed down the companionway and so into his well- 
appointed cabin. My first glimpse of it told me that 
this was no ship of poverty, while here and there were 
things which reminded me somewhat of other things 
which I had seen in Francis Drake’s own state cabin— 

159 




THE FLAMING CROSS OF SANTA MARTA 


things that had, I doubted me not, been wrested from 
the houses of Dons on the Main. 

‘‘Sit you down, young master,” the man said, “may¬ 
hap you have a name?” 

“Aye, sir,” I told him with a smile, as I sat in a well- 
carved chair. “That is Roger Hampsley of Bristol.” 

“Gadzooks!” he exclaimed, leaping to his feet. 
“There be but one Roger Hampsley that I know, and 
him I met in these same seas many years agone.” 

“Mayhap, sir,” I told him, “ ’twas my father!” 

Whereupon he asked me many a question which an¬ 
swering proved that this man, who gave his name as 
Captain Richford of the good ship Seeker of Pleasure, 
out of Plymouth, had indeed known my father in the 
years when he, too, roamed the Spanish Main. 

I tell you, my masters, that I was pleased to learn 
this, and if I be any judge of a man, and can read a 
man’s eyes, ’twas pleasure also to Captain Richford, 
who took my hand and used it as a man might use a 
handle of a pump, till I thought me it would loose its 
very socket. 

“Roger Hampsley,” he said at last, “I am pleased to 
meet you. I thank heaven that I have been able to do 
somewhat of a service to the son of an old friend. 
Drink that 1 ” and he pushed a bowl toward me. “Then 
tell me the story I 

“You say that Francis Drake’s in these seas?” 

“Aye, sir,” I told him. “That is indeed the truth.” 
And began me to recite the tale of the expedition out of 

i6o 






“DEAD MEN EVERYWHERE^’ 


Plymouth, right up to the time when we had seen his 
ship on the skyline. Though there was one thing that 
I did keep to mine own counsel, and that was the story 
of the Flaming Cross and the chart that had been 
blotted off the chest of Dan Rodney. 




CHAPTER XI 

WESTWARD BOUND ONCE MORE 


I DOUBTED not that it would be easy to explain 
Rodney’s chest, an there should be necessity, as 
the result of a wound in the fight with the 
Spanishers. 

*Tt is the kind of thing, Master Roger,” said Captain 
Rich ford when I had ended my tale, “that the Dons do. 
They leave sick men and wounded with as much heed 
as a man leaves a mad dog bleeding on the roadside!” 

“Aye, sir, aye, sir,” I said in reply. “Tales I have 
heard many a time of the ruthless cruelty of these 
same Dons, and I do confess that at times I have 
thought that there were not all too much truth in them, 
but now I know, and henceforth np Don shall find 
mercy at my hands.” 

“Well spoken, Roger,” he told me, “well spoken 1” 
“And now I do perceive that you do nod over your 
bowl and would sleep, which you may do here.” 

“I thank you, sir,” I answered, “but one thing I 
would crave is that those three companions of mine 
may be tended; and another, that you might tell me 
whither the Seeker of Pleasure is bound?” 

“Homeward to Plymouth are we bound,” the cap- 

162 


WESTWARD BOUND ONCE MORE 


tain told him. '‘And as for that other request of yours, 
it will already have been seen to. And it may please 
you to know that Surgeon Powe is no mean sawbones. 
Rest your mind over your friends!” 

At these words he went out of the cabin and left 

/ 

me to myself, and I was not alone many moments be¬ 
fore I was fast asleep, for during all the days and 
nights that we had been in the open boat since leaving 
the Francis, I had slept scarcely more than a cat’s sleep 
here and there. . . . 

I awoke refreshed and found Captain Richford sit¬ 
ting in his cabin, as if waiting for me to rouse myself. 

"Ah,” he said, when he saw me stretch myself. 
"Feel you any better ?” 

"Aye, as fresh as a new-blown flower!” I told him 
with a laugh. "How fares Dan Rodney?” 

"The surgeon has taken him in hand. Master 
Roger,” was the reply, "and he tells me that he doubts 
not that Master Rodney will make recovery, though 
it will be many a day ’fore he can hope to take part in 
man’s work again.” 

"I’d like to see him, sir,” I said, and he nodded, as 
if he understood my feelings. 

"Wilt not eat first ?” he asked. 

I told him I would rather wait until I had seen 
Rodney. Whereupon, he called for a servant and had 
me guided to the quarters where I found Dan Rodney, 
looking comfortable enough, but having withal the face 
of a man who had suffered much agony. 

163 




THE FLAMING CROSS OF SANTA MARTA 


“Roger!” he said, when he saw me, and his face 
lighted up with a smile. “Heaven has been kind to us.” 

“Aye, heaven has I” I replied. “How feel you now ?” 

“Much as a pig would feel an the skin of him had 
been scarred for roasting while he was yet alive!” he 
said, and I knew, for all his attempted cheerfulness, 
he was still suffering great pain. “That chirurgeon 
may be a better man at his work than you, Roger, but 
he hurts more, too! What have you told them aboard 
this ship?” he demanded suddenly. “Aught of the 
Cross?” 

“Never a word,” I said. “It is a promise among 
us that we speak not to strangers of that, eh ? Though, 
iTaith, the captain of this ship be not altogether a 
stranger, in a manner of speaking.” 

And I told him of how Captain Rich ford was a 
friend of my father’s, long ago. 

“Much of a friend, did he say, Roger?” 

Dan asked me at that, and I told him I had gathered 
that they had been well friendly in those days. 

“But why?” I questioned him. 

“Fll tell ye another time, lad. I must think a little. 
Meantime, Roger, there’ll be more things you’ll be 
wanting to know, eh?” 

And, as you will understand, I was not slow in tell¬ 
ing him he spoke truly, whereupon, he continued the 
tale that had been interrupted by the first sight of the 
Seeker of Pleasure. 

“Let me see,” he puckered his brow. “I had told 

164 




WESTWARD BOUND ONCE MORE 


you already that that devil Enriquez offered me life, 
and your life too, if I would explain to him the meaning 
of the chart. Well, lad, I looked at you as you lay 
on the deck, senseless, and I was sore tempted to tell. 
For myself, I cared little: but I felt that you had been 
lured away by me, and that I owed you something. 
Then I steeled my heart, believing that you would have 
me do so and-'' 

“You did well, indeed, Dan!” I said softly, and his 
eyes smiled at me for my words, as he went on: 

“I steeled my heart, lad, for that reason, and because 
I knew enough of the Dons to know that their words 
are as strong as a piece of string that a man can 
break with his fingers! So I told Enriquez that he 
could go to his master the devil, whereat he grew 
angry and slashed me across the face. I would have 
strangled him then and there, Roger, an I had had the 
strength. But I was too weak, and could but glare 
at him. 

“ ’Tis the last chance that I give you!” he roared at 
me: and still I kept silence. Then he turned to the 
officer and they spoke awhile together. A little later 
I was seized and stretched on the deck, and held down 
by my legs and arms—they cared not that I had still 
a wounded arm, Roger. Enriquez pulled out a knife. 

“ ‘An you do not speak,' he told me, ‘this knife will 
take the chart from your chest.’ 

“I did not answer, lad, but I do admit that I almost 
gave in at the threat. Weak indeed I must have been. 





THE FLAMING CROSS OF SANTA MARTA 


for just then I did swoon away like any woman with 
fright: and when I came to, it was with the feeling of 
burning pain in my chest, and, looking down, I saw 
the red lines there: and Enriquez standing before me, 
holding a traced copy of the chart. He had taken it 
while I slept, and then had drawn his knife to and fro 
across my chest. 

‘T cursed Enriquez till my throat was hoarse- 
cursed, too, my own helplessness. Then with a mock¬ 
ing laugh Enriquez went over the side—and raising 
myself on my elbow I saw a boat reach one of the 
frigates. Presently the frigate made sail, and I gazed 
about the deck of the Francis. Not a man of all those 
lying there moved—not even you, and I could not drag 
myself over to where you lay, so that I knew not 
whether you were dead or alive. Roger, I think I must 
have gone mad then. I do not know. All I know is 
that I did call down the vengeance of heaven on those 
fiends: dropped again into a merciful unconsciousness, 
and knew nothing more until I found you bending over 
me. 

He stopped speaking at that, and looked at me as 
I sat beside him. There, with my head buried in my 
hands, I was weeping like a schoolboy just whipped. 
He reached out a hand and stroked my hair. 

“Nay, Roger,” he said, gently. “Take not on so, 
lad. We live—and some day, maybe—we shall find 
our revenge!” 

“Aye, Dan,” I said, straightening myself and dash- 

166 




WESTWARD BOUND ONCE MORE 


ing the tears away. ‘T would give the treasure of the 
Main, an I had it, to take vengeance on Enriquez for 
what he has done to you. But there be little hope of 
that. He has gone, and we’ll never see him again. 
For we are bound for Plymouth!” 

‘‘Tell me, Roger,” Dan asked then. “Hast heard 
whereabout this vessel is?” 

“Nay,” I told him, greatly wondering what was be¬ 
hind the question. 

“Then go you to this Captain Richford, who was a 
friend of your father, and ask him. More, Roger, 
beseech him that he come to speak with me. While I 

have been speaking I have thought and maybe- 

But, Roger, go do my bidding!” 

Now, I had come to the point where I would have 
gone into the hottest fire an Dan Rodney told me to, 
and so, without staying to seek the meaning of his re¬ 
quest, I left the cabin and went me to that of Captain 
Richford. 

“How fares your friend?” he asked kindly, when I 
entered. 

“As well as a man can under such trouble,” I told 
him. “Sir,” I went on, “he bids me ask of you two 
questions.” 

“Ask them, lad!” the captain told me, and I forth¬ 
with spoke the things that Dan had said. 

“We be a matter of a week or more’s sail from the 
mainland,” he told me. “But what is that to your 
friend?” 


167 





THE FLAMING CROSS OF SANTA MARTA 


‘‘That I know not, sir,” I told him. ‘‘Methinks ’tis 
for that he would have speech with you, an you be 
pleased to see him.” 

‘‘Come with me,” he said on the instant, and I fol¬ 
lowed back into the cabin where Dan lay. 

When we entered his eyes lit up with pleasure, and 
he spoke words of thanks to Captain Richford for 
what had been done for him. 

“Sailormen all we be. Master Rodney, and English¬ 
men at that!” the captain said with a smile as though 
that were enough reason for what had been done. 
“But what is’t you would say to me?” 

“Sir,” said Dan, “I do understand that you did 
know this boy’s father?” 

“Aye, right well I did, and glad of it!” was the re¬ 
ply. “Old Roger Hampsley was as good a man as 
ever trod deck, and as brave a fighter as ever handled 
musket.” 

“Sir, I have a tale that I would tell you, an you be 
pleased to listen,” said Dan Rodney, quietly, but with 
confidence. 

Forthwith Rodney launched him out into the tale 
of the Flaming Cross of Santa Marta, together with 
the things that had happened to him as the result of the 
Spaniards’ search for the secret chart, omitting no 
detail, nor sparing himself the horror of the recital 
again of the way in which Enriquez had secured it. 
And as he spoke I glanced from him to the captain 
time and again, and saw the knuckles of Richford 

168 




WESTWARD BOUND ONCE MORE 


showing white as he clenched his fists, and noticed the 
straightness of his lips, and the gleam in his eyes. 
Yet, he spoke not a word to interrupt Dan, but listened 
quietly. 

''Captain Richford, that is the story,” Dan finished 
up, "and yonder, on the Main, lies a rich treasure for 
the taking by brave men. Francis Drake has the secret 
of the hiding place, but I doubt me whether he can 
reach Santa Marta before Enriquez, who will lose no 
time in getting there. An you be not wedded to the 
plan of reaching Plymouth yet awhile-” 

It was only then that Captain Richford spoke, and 
his words made my heart leap in my breast. 

"Master Rodney,” he said, and although he spoke 
quietly there was a ring in his voice that thrilled me, 
"Master Rodney, I understand what it is you would 
have done. The Seeker of Pleasure is laden till she 
rides low in the water with treasure that has been 
taken from many a Spanish hold, but an I know my 
men there be not one among them but will jump to the 
chance of yet another haul, though I do swear that not 
one of them shall touch aught of that hoard, an we 
find it!” 

"How so, sir ?” Dan demanded eagerly. 

"Because an they do this thing that you wish, Fll see 
to it that you keep pact with Francis Drake, for I my¬ 
self will give them shares of my share of the plunder 
already taken by us. Come, Master Hampsley, we’ll go 
on deck and put the matter afore them!” 

169 





THE FLAMING CROSS OF SANTA MARTA 


I tell you that I swung on my heels smartly at that, 
only pausing to throw a glance of exultation at Dan 
Rodney whose face was a picture indeed: and then fol¬ 
lowed Captain Rich ford to the deck, where he had all 
hands piped, and told them that he had a story for 
their ears. 

Whereupon, to my astonishment, and not a little 
consternation, he commanded that I tell the tale to them. 

I fear me that I made but a sorry story-teller, and 
could have wished that it was Dan himself standing in 
my place; but, as I went on, I gathered confidence, 
especially as the men seemed to hang upon my words, 
and many were the shouts of anger that went up when 
I came to that part of the taking of the chart from 
the chest of a living man. 

‘‘A tale, my masters, that is like too many another 
cried Captain Richford when I had finished. “A tale 
that calls on us for vengeance. Down below lies the 
man, and he would have us go questing for the treasure 
whose hiding place he has carried the secret of for many 
a year. Wilt go? That treasure belongs to Dan Rod¬ 
ney and this youth, and to another greater than they— 
to Francis Drake himself. Wilt go questing for it?’* 

The shout that went up at those words was dinful 
to the ears, but it was also joyful to me, and I shook 
with the emotion of it all as I realized that these men 
who had been bound for home after months of danger 
and hard work, were prepared to turn about and help 
us in a private quest. 


170 




WESTWARD BOUND ONCE MORE 


“You hear?” Richford turned to me. “You hear— 
they are willing, and the Seeker of Pleasure shall turn 
back this instant. Bide awhile men, and listen. No 
man shall be the loser through this, for while we will 
see that the treasure goes to those to whom it belongs, 
there shall be shares for every man out of my portion 
of the treasures we have already taken!” 

Once more the air was rent with cheering sounds, 
and then, at a word from Captain Richford, the men 
dispersed and I stood by his side watching the sails 
being trimmed so that the Seeker of Pleasure tacked 
about and went romping toward the west and left me 
for a while speechless with the wonder of it all, and 
the hope that we might forestall Enriquez in the race 
for the Flaming Cross of Santa Marta. . . . 

As in a dream I followed Captain Richford down to 
the cabin, where Dan lay waiting to learn the news 
of our success or otherwise. But I knew, the moment 
I saw his face, that he had heard the uproar on deck, 
and had little doubt of what the answer was. 

“We are going, Dan,” I cried. “We are bound for 
Santa Marta.” 

“Captain Richford,” said Dan, looking up at him 
—and ril swear that there were tears in his eyes—“I 
thank you! One thing only do I regret, and that is that 
I shall be a-staying on board while you do go questing 
for the Flaming Cross.” 

“But we will have Master Roger with us,” Captain 
Richford said cheerily. “There is one important thing, 

171 




THE FLAMING CROSS OF SANTA MARTA 


Rodney, that I should know, and that is how to find 
where lies hidden the Flaming Cross. I doubt me not 
that you can remember all of that chart which you 
have carried with you for these many years. 

‘*An he does not, sir,” I said, “I have it graven in 
my mind,” at which Dan Rodney laughed as heartily 
as a man may laugh in such a parlous state as he was. 

“Good lad for ye, Roger,” he said. “Scrawl you on 
parchment what you think you have in your mind. 
’Twill be a test, and if you be right the finest ruby that 
the treasure holds shall be yours above your share!” 

So I sat me down, and on parchment and with ink 
which Captain Rich ford sent for, I scrawled, not 
quickly, but slowly, as a man must do who gropes into 
his memory, what I told myself was a near copy of 
the chart that once had been plain upon the chest of 
Dan Rodney. Aye, even to that cross set among what 
Dan Rodney had said were marks of the hills. That, 
too, I placed, and I would have wagered that ’twas not 
far wrong. 

“Look you I” I exclaimed when the task was done. 

Thrusting the parchment into Dan’s hands, I watched 
him anxiously, wondering whether I had done well or 
ill. For a few moments Dan’s eyes stared at the lines 
and the marks, and I saw a smile curl about his lips. 
Then he looked up at me and said: 

“Roger, there be no need to keep a chart while you 
have this burned into your mind. First let me show 
it to Captain Richford, then we will destroy it lest— 

172 




WESTWARD BOUND ONCE MORE 


who knows ?—some Don sometime may find it I Read 
you the chart, captain,’' and he handed the parchment 
to Richford, who examined it with care and then 
passed it back. 

‘T think you are wise to say that this should not 
exist,” he told Dan. “Remember that I am in your 
hands and want to know naught that you would not 
have me know.” 

“We have told you all, sir,” was Dan’s reply, “and 
we do trust you even as you do trust us. And now 
methinks I would sleep again, which I can do in peace.” 

So Dan turned himself away and we left the cabin, 
I to wander about the ship, making new friends and 
going down to see the other two men to find out how 
they fared. Under the skilled handling of Surgeon 
Powe they had made better recovery in that short time 
than they had done under my prentice hand, and their 
fever was fast leaving them, so that within a week 
of their getting aboard the Seeker of Pleasure they 
were fit men and well, while Dan also showed improve¬ 
ment. His broken arm was now made whole ag^in, 
and the flesh wound in the hip healed, so that he was 
able to move about deck at the end of a week, during 
which, although we had passed within easy distance 
of Spanish isles, we had not crossed the course of any 
ships, either Spanish or English. 

That we had not met with any of Drake’s or Haw¬ 
kins’s ships set me wondering often as to what had 
happened to them: and it was only when having to put 

173 





THE FLAMING CROSS OF SANTA MARTA 


in for water at a small bay—and we found there a num¬ 
ber of Spanishers and took them prisoners and carried 
them aboard—^that we had learned something of what 
had happened. It did seem that, after sailing for some 
days, Hawkins had made rendezvous with Drake at 
the appointed place, and then, reuniting squadrons, had 
sailed still farther toward the west, and been sorely 
disappointed because the Dons had gathered news of 
their intent to attack Puerto Rico. 

Despite the good fortune that had befallen us when 
we had seen that everything was lost, on hearing this 
news I felt again, as we plowed toward the west, that 
foreboding which had overtaken me before the great 
catastrophe had fallen upon us, and I wondered whether 
it was to prove as true this time as it had done before. 
It was Dan’s cheerful way which drove such thoughts 
from my mind. 

“Roger,” he said on the day when we sailed nigh to 
the coast of the Main, “the fate that has brought us 
so far out of so much danger and difficulty has not done 
so to bring us disaster now, when we be but a day’s 
sailing off the mainland.” 

And, forgetful of his injury, he slapped me upon 
the back and bade me cheer up, and then winced—the 
which I knew the reason for. 

True, that day I lived upon the deck with Dan, 
staring across the empty sea, waiting for the first vision 
of the land; and you will understand that, with the 
memory in my heart of all the news that I had heard 

174 




WESTWARD BOUND ONCE MORE 


both from my father and Dan, as well as from scores 
of rough sea-worn rovers, of the ways and riches of 
the Main, I was filled with eagerness and expectation. 
I must have shown this upon my face or in my bearing, 
for as I stood gripping the rail with my knuckles show¬ 
ing white, a voice spoke quietly, and turning I saw 
Captain Rich ford standing beside me. 

‘‘Aye, 'tis a great country, is the New World, Roger,” 
he said, “but it has been spoiled by men, or dogs who 
call themselves men. Within an hour or so we shall 
see the shore we have set course for, so that we cast 
anchor between Santa Marta and La Hacha, whence 
we shall march inland, and so into the mountains, 
where—if Enriquez has not already found it—lies 
the Flaming Cross. We shall land with the moon at 
its height, and a few hours’ journey should bring us 
into the hills. An you be wise, you will do as other 
men are doing who will be of the landing-party—you 
will sleep.” 

I thanked him for his good advice which I knew was 
good, and got me down to the cabin which I shared 
with Dan and went to sleep, to awaken when a man’s 
voice bawled in and bade me rise, for we were at 
anchor. 

Dan Rodney awoke also, and as I saw to it that my 
weapons were all ready, and that the provisions we had 
each had doled out to us were safely packed, I saw 
him get up. 

“Roger,” he said, “I’m coming too!” 



CHAPTER XII 
THE LION’S HEAD 


“ I 'y UT the journey, Dan!” I exclaimed, then found 
not tongue to say more, because I could tell 
by the look on his face that he had made up 
his mind and nothing would change it. 

So, together, we went up on deck and found that 
already a number of boats had left the ship. Captain 
Richford I saw, and went up to him, Dan beside me. 

“Heigho! come to see us away, Rodney?” the captain 
asked, but Dan laughed. 

“Nay; come to go with you!” he said. 

“But—” Richford began, and stopped as Dan Rod¬ 
ney put in quietly and firmly: 

“I’m going—if it kills me!” 

What would you do with a man like that? What 
Richford did, I doubt not: shake hands with him and 
say: 

“Well, you come in my boat and walk beside me 
while you can, and be carried an the journey prove too 
much for you.” 

Whereat I saw by the light of the moon that Dan’s 
face was beaming with smiles; and soon we were in 
the last boat making for the shore—I pent with ex¬ 
citement. 


176 


THE LION’S HEAD 


I would have you know that, acting upon the in¬ 
formation given him by Dan Rodney, Captain Rich- 
ford had cast anchor in a well-sheltered bay, which had 
been the spot at which Rodney had aimed to reach 
during all the years since he had helped conceal the 
Spanish treasure, since he knew that it provided a rare 
good starting point for the hills. To the right of us 
lay Santa Marta, several miles away; to the left, many 
miles farther. La Hacha, and between these two points 
lay land unoccupied, unless it be with roving Indians, 
who might be friendly or hostile, and against whom 
we should have to keep a sharp lookout, and, in the 
event of hostility, endeavor to placate lest they go and 
warn the Dons of our presence. 

For this reason, Richford sent out scouts in advance 
when we started on our journey, while the rest of us, 
with Richford and Rodney at our head and Prior and 
I close behind them, went onward two abreast. 

It was a toilsome journey, through scrub and over 
rough ground with no paths, and, now and again, 
stretches of forest through which we had to force our 
way; and I do marvel even to this day how Dan Rod¬ 
ney managed to keep on the move for so long ere he 
at last, faltering of step, sagged behind, so that the 
captain called out for bearers. 

“Make you a litter,” he told them, “and see, then, that 
our comrade has an easy voyage!” 

Very hastily was the litter made, and presently four 
men were marching with us, carrying Rodney. 

177 




THE FLAMING CROSS OF SANTA MARTA 


For hours we marched thus, staying now and awhile 
to take somewhat of rest and for the course to be con¬ 
firmed, and finally coming to halt in a forest, where it 
was decided to remain during the day, which was now 
on the break. This course was a wise one, lest we be 
seen either by Indians or by Spaniards; and I noticed 
that Richford had a watch set, these men climbing into 
the tall trees, whence they could view the land for a 
long distance. 

Nevertheless the day passed uneventfully, and, with 
the coming of night, we were ready once more for the 
march over the last stage of our journey, which was 
carried out in like manner as before. Within five hours 
of our setting forth, Richford, at Rodney’s desire, 
called a halt. 

^‘Captain,” he said, ‘‘yonder are the hills”; and he 
pointed to a dark ridge that loomed up beneath the star- 
filled sky; and I felt my heart leap with the joy of the 
knowledge that we were at last within easy distance 
of our objective. “I do think it wise,” Dan went on, 
“that we stay here and send scouts out to view the hills, 
for I have it in my mind that Master Enriquez will 
have lost no time, an he has been able to read the chart 
after any fashion, in getting here; for you must know 
that the Dons who attacked us those many years agone, 
knew that it must be somewhere among those hills that 
we had hidden their treasure.” 

“And I doubt not that they have searched many a 
time since then!” Richford said with a chuckle. “I'll 

178 




THE LION’S HEAD 


send the scouts, aye, I’ll go myself, and Master Roger 
shall come with me, bringing the chart that he has in 
his mind! What say ye to that, Roger?” 

I said what was in my heart, and that was that I 
was ready for the task; nay, I was over-ready, as you 
may believe. So it was that presently Rich ford and I, 
with four other men, all of us armed to the teeth, went 
stealing out across the flat plain between us and the 
foothills, moving like wraiths in the night, and making 
for the point which Rodney had told us was the best 
at which to begin the ascent. 

My heart pit-patted like the tattoo of a drum as I 
marched thus, and in my mind’s eye I was viewing 
the unwritten chart, wondering whether, after all, I 
should be able to locate the landmarks of which Rodney 
had apprised me so many times. 

We reached the hills at last, without accident, and 
began the ascent, having found the pass that Rodney 
had told us of, and, in single file now, since there was 
no room for more than one at a time, we made our way 
up the zigzag, winding track, rising higher and higher, 
and going as it were into the very heart of the mountain 
ridge. 

Suddenly I cried aloud, and I at once knew that I 
had made a mistake, the mistake of having opened my 
mouth above a whisper, but not a mistake as to the 
thing which I had shouted. 

‘*The Lion’s Head!” I cried, and then left off at the 
quickly muttered word of Captain Richford. 

179 




THE FLAMING CROSS OF SANTA MARTA 


Here must I confess, perhaps out of conceit or, 
maybe, out of an ignorance of the manner in which a 
tale should be told, here I must say that I confess to 
not having put down on these pages before some 
description of the chart which had been engraved upon 
Dan Rodney’s chest. 

‘‘Sure you are that you be right?” Captain Richford 
said when I had finished my survey. 

“Aye, as sure as man can be of anything!” I told 
him. “What next?” 

“Back to the camp!” the captain said. “We will 
fetch the men up and get them to work while the moon 
is aloft. Thanks be that there be neither sighting of 
Dons nor that there has been any attempt to discover 
the treasure, which means that Don Enriquez has not 
yet got to work. Mayhap those frigates fell foul of 
Francis Drake!” 

“Heaven grant that!” I said fervently, as we began 
to descend over the way we had come. 

Reaching camp we gave the news, and all was quiet 
bustle, as the men filed out of the forest with scouts 
to the fore, since we were taking no risks at all. 

Well indeed it was for us that Captain Richford 
had taken this precaution, for when the main body was 
halfway up the path the scouts came in like shadows 
in the night and reported news which set us, not only 
to thinking hard, but also to prepare ourselves for what 
we knew would be a fierce combat. 

“Dons there be up there at the Lion’s Head!” was 

i8o 




THE LION’S HEAD 


the news they gave us. ‘‘They have come up the hill¬ 
side from toward Santa Marta. There be mules with 
them, and every man is armed!” 

“Would that I had the strength!” exclaimed Dan 
Rodney under his breath. 

I knew what he meant. He would have given half 
the treasure to have been able to go with us into the 
fight for the sake of getting even with Enriquez. I 
bent over him as he lay in the litter. 

“Dan,” I said quietly, “never fear. Leave Enriquez 
to me. He shall pay dearly for what he has done to 
you!” 

Then leaving men to guard Dan, the rest of us 
continued our march up the hill, quiet as the night 
itself, which quietness was broken presently when we 
were within a hundred yards of the bend in the path. 

Sounds that came down to us were made by pick 
and spade, and I knew that without doubt Enriquez 
had read the riddle of the chart, which, truth to tell, 
was not altogether difficult. 

Rich ford called a halt and whispered in my ear to 
follow him to reconnoiter. As I trod close upon his 
heels my heart was like to stop for very anxiety lest 
by a fallen step I should betray our presence. Never¬ 
theless we came nearer to the bend with the moon 
throwing our shadows behind us. Sure, we threw 
ourselves upon our stomachs and crept up like panthers 
until we came to the bend, from which we could see 
what was in the doing. 


i8i 





THE FLAMING CROSS OF SANTA MARTA 


Full two score of men there were, and every one of 
them was wielding either pick or spade on the soft 
earth of the spurside. 

I saw muskets piled against rocks and swords lying 
on the ground, and I could have chuckled with glee 
at the sight, since it meant that we might fall upon 
these unsuspecting Dons and rout them before they 
had time to recover their weapons. 

A touch upon my arm made me turn, and it needed 
nothing more to cause me to turn and crawl back where 
we had left the men. A few muttered words of com¬ 
mand, and then the whole band was creeping silently 
onward, confident of success. Then just as we reached 
the bend, disaster came in full. A man dropped his 
muskets; they exploded with a crash which seemed 
enough to wake the dead. Instantly there were shouts 
of alarm beyond and a sound of rushing feet, and above 
it all arose the voice of Captain Rich ford. 

*‘On, men! St. George and merry England!” he 
cried, giving the English battle cry that had blown so 
often before on the Spanish Main. Then we were 
among them; pistols and muskets firing, and axe and 
pike and cutlass carving a way through the Dons, who 
had snatched up their weapons and were putting up 
a fierce defense. 

Never shall I forget that fight! I flung my musket 
to the ground and had my father’s cutlass flashing in 
the moonlight. 

To add to the confusion, the Spanish mules had taken 

182 




THE LION’S HEAD 


flight, and strangely enough, instead of scampering 
down the path, came mingling with the fight, and know¬ 
ing not foe from friend, were as liberal in the use of 
their hoofs upon the Spaniards as they were upon us. 
A very giant of a Don, bare to the waist and wielding 
a great broadsword, came down upon us. I slipped 
me under his upraised arms, and my cutlass drove him 
away. Next instant, something struck me in the back 
and I went struggling forward, tumbling upon the body 
of my enemy. And not dead—despite his wound, he 
seized me with strong hands which, however, loosed 
their hold as my own first beat upon his face. When 
I had recovered somewhat from the blow I loosened 
myself from his grasp and sprang to my feet, regain¬ 
ing my fallen cutlass and springing round just in time 
to meet yet another foe. His face was in the shadow, 
but I knew him nevertheless. Knew him for Enriquez! 

''At you! You villain! You dog!” I cried. 

He laughed back at me as his long Toledo blade 
quivered like a snake’s fang and touched me on the 
right ear, thrust from my throat by a parry that my 
father had taught me. 

Not a word more did either of us say, but we fought 
together as though we two alone were there, heedless 
of the battling men around us. 

Far different was the man Enriquez found against 
him now from the boy who had fought him in the 
street at Plymouth, for I had grown strong of arm, 
and was more nimble of feet from much practice. 

183 




THE FLAMING CROSS OF SANTA MARTA 


Yet I knew that I had a foe who might not be taken 
lightly. 

I put forth all the skill that I knew, and exclaimed 
with joy when I felt the point of my cutlass bite 
the man’s right forearm. It was a cry that died 
away and became a gasp of pain, as, before I could 
recover myself, Enriquez had got his point in the 
shield and twirled my blade from my hand. And 
then he sprang and dealt me a fierce blow full upon 
the forehead with something that he had in his left 
hand. I felt myself falling, but ere I touched ground, 
something seized me. I was lifted bodily off my feet 
and then I forgot all things. 

I awakened with the sense of an unusual motion. 
I had been bent forward, and the earth seemed to be 
moving past me. I strained myself up, and realized 
as I did so that I was on the back of some moving 
animal. A voice spoke to me from the side, and a hand 
grasped me by the shoulder. 

^‘So you awaken I” a voice said, bringing my head 
from one side of the mule’s neck to the other. I saw 
that Enriquez was riding another animal beside me. 

“You thought to have outwitted me,” he went on, 
“but you dogs of Englishmen are no match for gentle¬ 
men of Spain!” 

I hurled his words back at him and then found 
that all my attention was needed to retain my seat 
upon the back of the mule. Now and again I glanced 
about me, questing for a sight of some of my com- 

184 




THE LION’S HEAD 


panions, but not one of them could I see. Only just 
we two were there, riding across the moonlit plain. 
I wondered what evil plan was in the mind of Enriquez. 
It is not necessary for me to say that as I rode I was 
endeavoring to loosen the bonds about my wrists, but 
it was a thankless task, and at last I gave it up in 
despair. Enriquez laughed evilly, and smote me across 
the shoulders with his sword. 

‘Tt is not that way lies escape. Master Roger 
Hampsley,” he told me with a sneer. 

^‘Which way, then?” I asked him suddenly. 

“In good time we shall know that,” came back the 
words. And he slashed the mule across the withers, 
so that the animal increased its pace. 

Silence then fell between Enriquez and myself, a 
silence that held until after many miles of traveling 
we came to the gates of a city, and where a Spaniard 
shouted out something in his own tongue, which I 
understood not the meaning, although I did soon guess 
it was a halt and a password, for presently a gate 
swung open and we entered through a stone archway. 

I can remember now how strange I felt—strangely 
calm and somehow rather pleased—the which I do 
put down to the fact that there were none but Enriquez 
and myself who had come down from the hills; and 
I remembered how heavily the mules had been panting 
as though they had both been pushed hard on the way. 

“It looks as though Enriquez just ran off with 
me!” I told myself, grinning a little, despite the 

i8S 



THE FLAMING CROSS OF SANTA MARTA 


parlous condition in which I knew I was. ^‘And if 
that is so it must mean that he saw the fight was 
going against his own men and that our band would 
remain in possession of the field, and therefore of the 
treasure.’' 

How far right I was in this I was to know soon, 
when I found myself standing in a well-lighted room 
with Enriquez, who had seen to the retying of the 
cords about my wrists, after I had been taken off the 
mule, saying something in Spanish to another man, and 
I marveled, aye, and shuddered at the light that 
gleamed in this man’s eyes as he listened to what 
Enriquez was saying in English. 

“So!” he said; and I swear that never did any 
man get more vehemence, more cruelty, into one brief 
word than that man got in that word “Sol” as he 
rose to his feet and advanced towards me. “You are 
a friend of the man who stole the Flaming Cross, 
and you know where it is I” 

I stared at him for a while boldly, but I confess 
that but for a moment did I stand thus; then I seemed 
to shrink within myself, as if I would hide from 
before the cruelty of his eyes, the evil of his lips. And 
I found not tongue with which to answer him. It 
seemed to anger him still more, and he slashed me 
across the face with the knotted end of the cord about 
his middle, so that I staggered back, and then, re¬ 
covering myself, and, as by a miracle, regaining self- 
confidence, I sprang towards him, my trussed hands 

186 




THE LION’S HEAD 


upraised as a man might have them in the Avielding 
of a broadaxe. Enriquez leaped at me and dragged 
me away ere I reached the man, and, foiled of my 
object, I lashed out at the Don with my heavy sea-shoe, 
so that he went limping and yelping away. Then 
before I could do aught else, the man had lifted up 
his voice, and in answer half a dozen armed men, every 
one of them in armor, came rushing into the room, 
and I was flung heavily to the ground, face down¬ 
wards. 

‘‘For that you shall—” Enriquez began, but his 
comrade hissed a warning as though he were afraid 
the Don should say anything too much. 

“Listen, dog of an Englishman!” the man de¬ 
claimed; and then he too stopped, brought to a halt 
by a loud knocking on the door. “Open it!” the man 
ordered. 

One of the soldiers clanked across the floor and 
swung wide the door. Who entered I could not see, 
for my nose was rubbing the floor and my mouth 
buried in the skin mat on to which I had fallen. Also 
the words that were spoken were foreign to me, except 
here and there a word, which I pieced together and 
did understand that the man who had entered was 
one of those who had been to the hills, and the news 
he brought was that the Spaniards had been beaten, 
and he only of them all had managed to escape, and 
that therefore the Cross would be found by the 
Englishmen. 





THE FLAMING CROSS OF SANTA MARTA 


Whereat, as you may guess, I was glad, though 
there happened things Tore long to take somewhat of 
the edge off my pleasure. 

For a while after the man was done speaking there 
was silence, and then my tormentor spoke; it was to 
me he spoke. 

‘'Listen!” he said again, and there was vibrant pas¬ 
sion in his voice. “You devil’s whelp, who would 
defile the treasure of the Holy Church! Can you 
write?” 

I answered him not, for I did understand the mean¬ 
ing behind the question, and did understand, too, the 
reason for Enriquez running off with me while yet 
the fight was on; they would use me, an they could, 
to obtain possession of the Flaming Cross 1 

But if I did not answer, Enriquez did for me. 

“Aye, he can write,” he said in English. “I have 
seen him at it while I was-” 

“Playing spy aboard an English ship I” I found my 
tongue to mumble to him, where I lay scarce able to 
move my lips, whereat he spurned me with his foot. 

“Then he shall write to those from amongst whom 
you brought him,” the man said. “Set him upon 
his feet!” 

I was hauled to my feet and stood, with a soldier 
on either side of me. The rascal looked at me as 
though he would spear me through with his eyes, and 
as if he hoped to make me quail before him again; 

188 





THE LION’S HEAD 


but by now I had overcome my fear and returned his 
gaze unafraid. 

‘‘Never a pen will I to put to parchment at your 
dictation!” I told him. 

I stepped back sharply as once more there came the 
swift movement of that knotted cord. It was as 
though anger lent strength to me, for how it happened 
I knew not, but as I stepped back, I jerked my hands 
apart and there came a sharp snap, the cord about my 
wrists broke and I was free. 

Free? Nay, not free, but a prisoner having the 
movement of all his limbs, the which, with a swift 
bout of thinking, I did jump to the use of. I sprang, 
like a tiger on its prey, straight for that evil-faced 
villain, and my fists crashed one after t’other upon him, 
so that he went tumbling away from before me and 
overset a chair behind him, sprawling his length upon 
the floor. My quick eyes, the while I had stood, 
bound, on my feet, had seen a jeweled dagger on a 
table nigh at hand where the man had fallen, and 
quick as the lightning’s flash I had seized it, and was 
stooping over him with the dagger but an inch from 
his black heart. 

“An either of you move towards me, he dies!” I 
told them, and I saw the looks of fear that spread 
over the faces of the soldiers. 

One man only showed not that fear, and he was 
Enriquez. He stood, lithe as a tumbler at the play, 
as though ready to spring and take his chance and 

189 




THE FLAMING CROSS OF SANTA MARTA 


risk the life of his comrade; and his lips were curled 
in what I knew to be contempt for me—contempt for 
my threat and my boyish braggadocio in thinking that 
I could prevail. 

I saw his hand move to his sword. 

‘‘Hold!” I cried. 

To prove my mettle I pressed the dagger-point into 
the robe of the prostrate man and touched the flesh 
beneath, so that he cried in alarm lest I should finish 
the work. It was sufficient to give Enriquez pause, 
and I smiled up at him as I half-straightened myself. 
Yet though I smiled, I knew in my heart that I was 
playing a losing game: what could I do? How could 
I hope to escape, not merely from this room, but from 
the city outside? Something of the same thoughts, 
I knew, were running through the mind of Enriquez, 
whose body had lost the tension of a few moments 
before, so that he stood careless-like, and with an in¬ 
scrutable smile upon his mouth as though he would 
say: “How long think you this can be done? And of 
what avail?” 

Then he lifted up his head and looked beyond me, 
and I, like a dolt, did turn my eyes to follow the direc¬ 
tion of his; the next instant he was upon me, and the 
dagger had gone flying from my hand as his sword- 
point slicked at my fingers. I had been tricked, as 
easily as one might trick a baby. 

I think I must have gone mad in that moment, for 
I feared nothing—not even the shivering blade before 

190 





THE LION’S HEAD 


me. I stepped aside slightly as he lunged at me, and 
stooping quickly, darted in under his guard, seized 
him about the waist and, for all his size, lifted him 
from his feet and flung him, as one might fling a 
rope-coil across a deck, full into the group of soldiers, 
and went bounding for the window not three yards 
from where I stood. 

A rich window it was, as I do remember noticing 
even in that moment, when all I should have thought 
of was life and death. But, rich or poor, I cared not; 
I sprang me upon a chair beneath it, jerked an elbow 
at the lattice-work, saw the moonlight bathing a court¬ 
yard outside, and knew that the drop was short. And 
I jumped, carrying, I doubt not, much wealth of work¬ 
manship with me to the ground. 

I laughed as I landed, which is a strange thing in¬ 
deed, but there had crossed through my mind the 
memory of the way in which Enriquez himself had 
escaped us that day in the dealer’s shop in Plymouth. 

‘T thank you for that example!” I muttered, as I 
picked myself up, and then was racing like the wind 
across the courtyard, towards a dark square in the 
wall that I knew must be a gate. 

I reached it with howls of rage sounding behind 
me, and as I did so, it opened, a soldier’s body stood 
half in half out as he was about to enter, no doubt 
to see what manner of commotion this was. It was 
not time for hesitance; I sprang for him, and had 
my hands about his unprotected throat, bearing him 

191 




THE FLAMING CROSS OF SANTA MARTA 


to the ground. I left him lying still and with his 
short sword in one hand and his pistol in t’other, I 
was through the gate, which I closed behind me. 

“That much will give me breathing space!” I told 
myself, realizing that by having dragged the soldier 
outside and closing the portal, those within, when they 
entered the courtyard, would go seeking me inside, 
not thinking at least for a while that I had managed 
to get away. 

I found myself in a street, narrow and with flat- 
roofed houses on either side, when once I was be¬ 
yond the wall surrounding the courtyard—and I 
thanked me ’twas night, since there were no folk 
abroad—I wormed my way through street after street, 
going I knew not whither, meeting no one, nor want¬ 
ing to I 

And, as I walked, I heard of a sudden the loud toll¬ 
ing of a bell. 

“The alarm, I doubt not 1” I told myself, and quested 
about me for somewhere to hide. 

Naught did I see to suit, except a dark alley, where 
I knew there might lurk as much danger as in the 
wider street. Yet I went me down it, for by now 
windows were opening, and doors. 

On I went, with the ringing of the bell still in my 
ears. Alert, I gripped the sword, ready for whatever 
might come. At the end of the alley I saw another 
wider street, bathed in the moonlight, and hesitated, 
wondering whether to risk debouching into it. And 

192 




THE LION’S HEAD 


as I wondered I heard the sounds of running feet, 
and saw dark forms flit by, going, I had no doubt, 
to learn the meaning of the call in the night. I re¬ 
treated somewhat into the alley, afraid lest I might be 
seen by one of the passing folk, and yet, when the 
sounds of footsteps had died away, I went back again, 
peering out while safely hidden. 

Little could I see, except straight ahead of me, and 
what I saw caused my heart to leap with hope within 
me. It was naught but a cart, piled high with some¬ 
thing that I could not see the nature of, as though 
either it had been left there ready for the unloading 
in the morning, or for taking away; the which I could 
not know, neither did I care then. One thing only 
it meant to me at that moment, and that was, that 
if I might happily reach it unseen, I could perchance 
steal in amongst its goods and lay concealed for a 
while, at any rate until the dawn at least, when the 
search in the city might be ended, and it be supposed 
that I had somehow succeeded in getting beyond the 
city walls, the which I dared not attempt then. 

I waited a while, breathless and silent, listening in¬ 
tently; and no sounds nigh at hand came to my ears. 
I peered out—risked a glimpse around either comer— 
and saw no one. 

’Tis now or never!” I murmured, and darted 
across the light-flooded street, coming up in the shadow 
of the cart on the farther side, and then began a hur¬ 
ried examination. I found the cart to be laden with 

193 




THE FLAMING CROSS OF SANTA MARTA 


bags, filled with I knew not what, and over them was 
a covering of canvas. 

I climbed upon the wheel and lifted the canvas, 
wormed myself in beneath it and huddled down 
amongst the bags. 

“So far 'tis good!” I muttered, and resigned myself 
to a night of watchfulness and listening. The bell had 
long since ceased tolling, and I wondered what was 
a-foot, the which I soon knew, for presently there 
were sounds of folks on the walk, and of much talking 
in excited tones, the words I understood little enough 
of, but sufficient to make me know that the search 
was going apace. I tell you, my masters, that I did 
tremble as I lay beneath that canvas. My hand gripped 
the pistol that it held; that at least should account for 
the first man who showed face at the canvas. I felt 
that the throbbing of my heart must be heard, aye, 
even the pulsing of my temples sounded to me like 
insistent calls to those who passed by. 

“Dolt that I am 1” I spoke in my mind. “ ^Tis no 
sure hiding place, but one in which the veriest fool 
would look 1” And times there were when it did go hard 
with me not to spring out and trust to chance. Never¬ 
theless I conquered the impulse that was on me, and 
lay still while folk passed and repassed, and the sounds 
presently died away. 

And then I must have slept, despite my fears; per¬ 
chance the strain had been too great upon me. And 
when I awoke, it was to imagine that I was aboard 

194 


THE LION’S HEAD 


a ship at sea, for I was moving; then came to me 
the recollection of where I was, and I lay still and 
listened. What I heard served to give me confidence, 
for the sounds of the wheels and of the horse’s hoofs 
was different from what common sense told me they 
ought to have been had they been on the city’s cobbled 
streets. 

With this in my mind I risked the lifting of the 
canvas, and peered out through the small opening I 
had made. Beyond, lay the grassy plain, with the 
sunlight streaming upon it, and neither house nor 
man in sight. Rough was the passage, and bumpy, 
so that I was buffeted about till my body was bruised 
and sore, but it mattered not to me. Sufficient was 
it that I was out of Santa Marta, that I was going 
farther away from it, that perchance, if the fates held 
on their kindly ways with me, I might effect an escape 
completely. 

I wondered, how many men there might be with 
the cart, but although I listened for a long while I 
could hear no voices, as might have been the case, 
I told myself, an there had been more than one. Then 
I bethought me of the fact that it was not likely that 
a man should venture alone from the city, if he were 
going far, lest he be beset by Indians who, as I had 
been told, for all that they had been brought to heel 
by the Dons, were yet not backward in .inflicting 
damage. 

Such were my thoughts as I peered into the open, 

195 





THE FLAMING CROSS OF SANTA MARTA 


but presently I had other things of which to think. 
The rumbling, creaking wheels came to rest and I 
dropped the canvas, just when I had it in mind that 
I must be fashioning a plan for my escape. At the time 
when the cart on which I rode stopped, I heard sounds 
behind as of others stopping also, and realized for the 
first time that it was no solitary vehicle crossing the 
plain. I remembered some of the things that Dan 
Rodney had told me many a time, of how, for instance, 
it was the custom for stores trains to go between the 
towns and the mines, where the Indian, aye, and Euro¬ 
pean prisoners, were forced to labor, at digging gold 
for the Dons; and I told myself that without doubt 
this was such a train. 

“Coom oop, devil tak' the beast!” a voice said; and 
I almost jumped up in my astonishment at hearing 
the English tongue, and a Devon tongue at that. At 
the same time I heard a clanking of iron, a clanking 
that kept up and grew plainer to me as some one passed 
alongside. 

“Vat ze matter?’^ this man asked; and again I 
wondered, for this was not an English tongue nor a 
Spanish that spoke, rather there was an accent of the 
French about it. 

“These Dons work their beasts when they ought 
to be shot for dog’s meat. Froggy!” the English voice 
said, in a low tone that I could only just hear. “This 
here mule have a yard-long blister on its leg and it 
burst. We—” the voice broke off, to give vent to a 

196 




THE LION’S HEAD 


sharp cry of pain, and I heard a Spaniard say, in broken 
English: 

“Fool! You hold the train! Take that!” 

I knew what that was; it was the whir of a thong, 
and I heard the zip of it as it bit into something—the 
body of a man who yelped with the pain of it. Fol- 
. lowed a snarling cry, and then an oath in Spanish, after 
which came shoutings of many men gathering at the 
cart. And out of all the hubbub I gleaned that the 
Englishman had struck a Spanish guard. What else 
happened then I could not tell, except that there was 
much of scuffling, which, when ended, was followed 
by a loud bellowing by the Englishman, a bellowing of 
curses and threats, and of entreaties, the reason for 
which I could not tell, and I dared not lift the canvas 
to look out. 

Then I heard the rumbling of wheels begin again, 
and thought that very presently the cart in which 
I was hidden would begin to move, in which, how¬ 
ever, I was mistaken. On either side I heard carts 
go past, as though they were sweeping out to get 
round, and then a voice spoke once more. It was 
that of the man who had abused the Englishman. 

“Stay there, dog! Till the day after the morrow, 
when we will come back this way and moisten your 
lips and feed you, so that you live awhile longer, and 
then die! Food there is, as you know, in the cart, food 
that we cannot take with us for the rest are overfull. 
Little good can it do you! Bah—and I heard the 

197 




THE FLAMING CROSS OF SANTA MARTA 


dull thud as of a boot kicking a man's body, and heard, 
too, the repeated curses of the Englishman. 

He shouted for a long while, but there came no 
answer, and at last he ceased his ravings, while I, who 
had not dared even to lift the cover until that moment, 
did risk the doing of it; and gasped as, raising my¬ 
self a little, I looked out and saw a man lying on the 
ground, stretched out in the form of a cross, with 
his hands above his head and his legs, with chains on 
them, spread wide; and both legs and arms were 
fastened to strong stakes that were pegged to the 
ground. I saw the man writhing in his bonds, his 
body lifted off the ground and arched, and I won¬ 
dered at the strength of him. I saw the veins on legs 
and arms standing out like whipcords, and his face 
was red with exertion. Yet no effect did he have 
on bonds or pegs; and presently he dropped back, curs¬ 
ing, to the ground. 

‘‘Left me, the fiends, the devils!” he raved. “Left 
me to die like a trapped rat!” I stuffed my fingers 
in my ears to deaden the sound of his cursing. 




CHAPTER XIII 
THE ENGLISH SLAVE 


S LOWLY it came to me that with the stores train, 
if such it was, gone, I had a chance of escape. 
Then I thought again. 

"‘Nay, not so quickly, Roger,’' I muttered. “It be 
not safe yet; bide awhile.” 

Not even did I announce my presence to the man 
on the ground, lest the cessation of his ravings should 
attract attention and bring the Dons back to see whether 
it meant that he had released himself. I must wait 
until they had had time to get far away, out of sound 
of the man’s voice, out of sight of him. I tell you that 
was an hour of agony, yet of strange pleasure; of 
agony lest through waiting I should be frustrated of 
my liberty through some one coming; of pleasure at the 
thought that there was possibility of escape. 

It was an hour which ended by my lifting the canvas 
and shouting through the opening: 

“Ahoy there, shipmate!” 

Whereat the man on the ground—lying still at that 
moment, after another terrific attempt to free himself— 
jerked up his head, so that I thought he must dislocate 
his neck. 


199 


THE FLAMING CROSS OF SANTA MARTA 


“Who in heaven^s name is therehe cried; and 
dropped back as I squeezed through from under the 
canvas. 

I stretched my cramped limbs and threw out my stiff 
shoulders before I spoke. I breathed deep of the air 
and laughed. 

“By the Queen’s ruffle!’’ panted the man. 
“You’re-” 

“The prisoner who escaped last night in Santa 
Marta!” I finished for him, reckoning that he likely 
enough knew of what had happened. In which I was 
right. 

Whereat he laughed, and I rejoiced to hear a good 
hearty English laugh again. 

I stooped over him and slashed at the ropes that held 
him, so that in a moment or so he was free, and able 
to stand upon his feet, although he still had the irons 
about his ankles. 

“Who are you?” he demanded, and I told him my 
name. 

“And you?” I asked, curiously. 

“Bill—Bill Heade, out o’ Plymouth!” he said. 
“Which I’ll never see more! Five years have I been 
a prisoner and-” 

“You’re not one now. Master Heade!” I told him, 
with a smile, but he rattled the chains for answer. 

“Much chance has a man wi’ these on!” he said. 
“But whence came you?” 

Now although he was English, aye, and of Devon, 

200 






THE ENGLISH SLAVE 


I did think it not wise to tell him too much, so I did 
content myself with saying that I had been one of a 
party which had landed, bent on plundering the Dons, 
and, being in fight in the hills, had been captured. 

He looked at me with a grin. 

‘‘Nay, that be not all the truth,’' he said. “I did 
hear the Dons whispering ’mongst themselves, and they 
spoke o’ the Flaming Cross, the Cross that every man 
on the Main has heard of at some time or other. But 
that is naught to me; what is much is, that there be an 
English ship somewhere, since you came not walking 
across the sea 1 Where did ye land, eh?” 

I told him as far as I could, and the effect was 
astonishing. 

‘‘Lad,” he said, eagerly, “an I could get these chains 
off I would hurry with you to the hills and so to the 
coast, for I know that same bay where ye landed! 
Haply, the ship be there still. Hast aught of a file, 
eh?”—this he asked me as if ’twere natural a man 
should carry a carpenter’s shop about with him I 

“Nay,” I told him. “How far is it to the coast?” 

“A day’s march to the hills,” he said, “and thou 
knowest how far from there to the bay, since you came 
thence.” 

We examined the mule’s leg, and it was indeed bad, 
but even so the beast, I could see, would be able to carry 
us at a quicker pace than we could hope to keep up if 
we were both walking. By taking turns on his back, 
and the other running, we could shorten the day’s jour- 

201 






THE FLAMING CROSS OF SANTA MARTA 


ney to the hills by many hours. So, having decided 
that, we slit open a bag in the cart and took from it 
food sufficient to last us, as we thought. We filled our 
pockets with it, and slung each a bag we made of canvas 
on our backs, and then at my demand Heade got on the 
mule, sitting as a woman sits on a horse, because of 
his chains. 

Thus we set off, Heade acting as guide, and made 
good progress indeed, despite the animal’s sickness. 
We took our rides by turns, and we knew that we had 
been right in our choice, because long ere the sun set 
we were at the foot of the hills, having met no one, 
although I had had it in my mind that there was a 
chance that the Spaniards might have sent out soldiers 
from Santa Marta to make examination of the scene 
of the last night’s fighting. 

We were men a-thirst indeed by this time, and half 
senseless men at that, when we at last reached the hills. 

^‘There be water in the hills,” said Heade. *‘Come, 
we’ll go find it I ’Tis five years since I was here, lad, but 
I can see the hill stream even now as I saw it then!” 

The news was good to me, but that the very thought 
of water being near served to make my thirst greater. 
Presently Heade gave a muffled shout, and started run¬ 
ning as best he could for the chains at his ankle. 

“’Tis here—’tis here!” he cried; and I sprang me 
from the back of the mule and raced after Heade, com¬ 
ing up with him when his head was sunk in the cool 
running water from the hill. I knelt beside him and 


202 



THE ENGLISH SLAVE 


drank as a man might drink of nectar and I do swear 
that never did nectar taste more sweet than that water. 

Bill Heade breathed like a man who had attained all 
that he had ever hoped for in life; he smacked his lips; 
he dripped the water through his fingers, and he 
laughed. 

“Ah,” he said, “ his good, lad—’tis exceedin^ good, 
eh?” 

I was too busy to answer him, but presently got to 
my feet, unhitched the water skin that hung at my side, 
and stopping again, filled it. 

“ ’Twill serve us well. Bill Heade!” I told him. “Let 
the mule drink 1” 

We did so, and after that I fell to washing the beast’s 
wound, cleaning away the festered matter and, tearing 
my shirt, did bind a clean wet bandage about the leg, 
and I’ll swear that brute looked his gratitude. 

“The next thing is the pass, Heade,” I said, quietly. 
“We’ll find that ’fore it’s right dark, eh?” 

He nodded, and leading the mule now, we set off, 
Heade in the van, and presently we came to the foot of 
the pass, and in my mind’s eye I could see far back to 
those days when Dan Rodney and his companions 
had come with the mule train laden with the treasure 
of Santa Marta, and begun the ascent, only to have to 
turn and do battle for their lives and their loot. I could 
imagine the scene, for had I not lived through one up 
there on the hill? I laughed as I thought of it— 
laughed as I thought of the discomfiture of Don En- 

203 




THE FLAMING CROSS OF SANTA MARTA 


riquez away there in Santa Marta; and I wondered, as 
we set foot in the pass, what would be his next move? 
Had he come, at the head of more soldiers, this way, in 
the hope of catching up with the men of the Seeker of 
Pleasure, before they reached the coast? Or, would he 
get down to the coast below Santa Marta and embark in 
the ship that had brought him thither and try to cut 
out the Seeker of Pleasure? 

^‘Mayhap, there be all those five frigates with him 
I told myself, and thereat grew alarmed for Richford’s 
ship. 

Strange I do now know it to be that, while thinking 
thus the thought came not to me about my own dan¬ 
ger—the danger that when I reached the coast I might 
be too late for the Seeker of Pleasure, and so be left 
stranded on this inhospitable shore, with Bill Heade 
only for companion, and beset by dangers the nature of 
which I could not tell. It was, in truth, some time ere 
I bethought myself of this, and then fell morose. 

Then a new thought came to me; I told myself that 
when my comrades missed me, and found me not either 
amongst the dead or the wounded, they would know 
that I had been spirited away since it was not likely 
I should run me away from them; and I knew that 
when Dan Rodney heard that news, an he did hear 
it at all, he would refuse to leave the coast until he 
knew somewhat of my fate. I trusted Dan Rodney 
for that, and doing so, took fresh heart. 

204 





THE ENGLISH SLAVE 


From such thoughts as these was I roused by the 
whispering voice of Bill Heade. 

“Roger Hampsley,” he said, “there be things I like 
not; men and horses have passed this way!” 

“Aye,’^ I told him, “ ^twas up this pass that Enriquez 
came last night and-” 

“Fie!” snapped Heade. “There have been passers- 
by since then. Look ye!”—and he pointed to signs that 
were on the hard ground, the which I myself must have 
seen an I had not been so taken up with my own 
thoughts. “We must go careful-like, lad! I wish we’d 
ne’er brought this mule—it’s like to be somewhat of a 
nuisance to us!” 

“ ’Tis done, now,” I said. “Who knows, it may be 
of service, even yet! Listen, Bill Heade: I’ll go me 
on a little way, making search, while you do bide here— 
there’s space behind that bowlder where mule and man 
might hide and not be seen by any one passing by.” 

I’ll have you know that ’twas moonlight by now, and 
that we were halfway up the pass—halfway, that is, 
to where I judged was the spot that was the hiding 
place of the Flaming Cross, and it came to me that per¬ 
chance the signs we had seen were those made by a party 
from Santa Marta gone up to examine the ground, and 
see if the English had succeeded in unearthing the treas¬ 
ure and, were that so, to pursue them towards the coast. 
Had I reflected somewhat, I should have told myself 
that they would at least not be there now, for Don 
Enriquez was not one to let grass grow beneath his feet; 

205 





THE FLAMING CROSS OF SANTA MARTA 


he would be off in the morning, not long, mayhap, after 
my escape. 

But at the time I had but one thought, and that to 
avoid falling into ambush, so that I left Bill Heade, who 
agreed with me, and went my way up the pass, walking 
as a cat might walk in the stalking of a mouse. Silent 
was the night, and still, and sound would have traveled 
far—the which served me in good stead, for it meant 
that I would be able to hear well in advance anything 
taking place higher up before me. Naught, however, 
did I hear, and so came unmolested and undisturbed to 
the place where stood, grim and amazingly lifelike, with 
the moonlight etching it in the night, the lion’s head, 
carved by some freak of nature out of the solid rock. 

I trembled as I saw it, not of fear, but of wonder 
whether the purpose of our mission had been fulfilled; 
and I stared about me in amongst the strange shadows 
flung by the moon’s light, picking out at last the cleft 
which I knew from my memory of the chart had been 
marked by the cross on Dan Rodney’s chest. I strode 
towards it and looked down. And a great bowlder stood 
on the edge of a deep hole below, and I knew that some 
one had delved and found the treasure! 

And as I stood there, staring into the hole, I felt that 
I would have given my right hand to have known 
whether Don Enriquez or Dan Rodney had been the 
discoverer! 

I scrambled up from the cleft down which once, for 
many years, had lain hidden the treasure and the Cross 

206 




THE ENGLISH SLAVE 


of Santa Marta, and hurried me back to where I had 
left Bill Heade. 

“Well, lad?” he asked me, and I told him what I had 
seen. “Then we can go thus far,” he suggested, when 
I had finished. “From there, we’ll make careful jour¬ 
neying, and I fear me we must travel only in the night.” 

I did agree with him, but I knew that once on the 
plain we should be able to travel much more quickly 
than when our party had come from the shore, since 
now we had the mule on which one of us could ride at 
a time. So we went together up the hill, passed the 
denuded cleft, and Bill Heade picked up a discarded 
shovel as he passed. “ ’Twill make a weapon,” he said 
grimly; and then we began the descent on the other 
side, I going far in advance, and Bill Heade taking care 
to subdue the clanking of his chain as he walked. In 
such fashion, without accident, did we reach the plain, 
and afar off the forest loomed black and forbidding— 
aye, forbidding, although we knew that ’twas a hiding 
place for us for the next day. Straight towards it we 
made, I insisting that Bill should take the first turn upon 
the mule, which, now that its leg had been dressed, 
though clumsily, was able to move more rapidly. 

In a measure, our reaching the forest over-early, 
compared with when we should had we to have walked, 
was upsetting, since to me it was a sore temptation to 
push ahead during the remaining night hours. Bill 
Heade it was who curbed my impatience. 

“Nay, lad,” he said. “I know this land, and there’s 

207 






THE FLAMING CROSS OF SANTA MARTA 


no shelter, for many and many a mile, as you must 
know, too, since you came this way! Fools we^d be 
to go now and have nowhere to hide during the day, 
and mayhap, run into the Dons, for of a certainty, 
they’ve gone this way, and have not yet come back I” 

It was wisdom that he spoke, and I knew it; but I 
was a restless body that early morning, and during the 
next day as we lay in the shelter of the forest, having 
hitched the mule to a tree. By rare good luck we found 
us a tiny streamlet which served us well. We took it 
in turns to sleep, for we had got not far into the forest, 
preferring to remain on the edge of it so that we might 
be able to see or hear if the Dons went by. 

Impatience, I do think, does make a fool of a man; 
it made a fool of me that day. It was towards evening, 
and Bill Heade was asleep, the last watch, ere we set 
forth again, falling to me. 

Yet naught happened to disturb us, except the calls 
of animals in the night, and the close passing of them 
during the day. Then came the evening, and having 
drunk our fill of the water, and given the mule what it 
would have, we set off once more on the last stage of 
the journey to the coast, I taking my bearing from the 
stars. For hours we went on thus, feeling happy at the 
thought that ere the light came again we might be 
gazing upon the Seeker of Pleasure. 

“Five years—aye, five years!” mumbled Bill Heade 
to me. “Five years since I was free, and then ’twas 
I came along this same way. Lad, I’ll ne’er forget yes- 

208 




THE ENGLISH SLAVE 


ter day! ’Twas the luckiest thing a man ever did when 
I struck that dog of a Don, else by now I’d ’a’ been in 
the mines! And now I’m free—free-” 

“Not yet, Bill Headel” I said quietly. “There be 
many a slip ’twixt cup and lip, as y’know! Suppose 
that the Seeker of Pleasure be gone—what then?” 

It was the first time I had voiced the thought to him, 
and he pulled up sharply as he sat on the mule. 

“By th’ Lord Harry!” he exclaimed. “I’ll tell ye 
I ne’er thought o’ that, lad! Why, ’twould mean-” 

And then he broke off of a sudden, and I, holding on 
to his leg as I had been doing while running alongside, 
stared with him into the night, and listened with ears 
agog. 

For, carried on a slight breeze, there came to us the 
sound of hoofs—the hoofs of galloping horses. I tell 
you I trembled, and my heart beat fast as I listened. 

Suddenly Bill Heade swung the mule’s head round 
and whispered: 

“Come on, Roger!”—and off he went, with me at his 
side, on an oblique line, coming to a halt presently. 

Acting on Heade’s advice, I threw myself flat on the 
ground. He, too, after having made the mule lie 
down, did the same, and so we lay, staring with scarcely 
lifted heads into the night, and with the dull thudding 
plainly to be heard in our ears. We knew that the 
sounds were made by a large body of horsemen, of that 
we were certain. Sure, too, were we that they could not 
be our friends. Of a certainty they must be men from 

209 






THE FLAMING CROSS OF SANTA MARTA 


Santa Marta in whose tracks we had been following 
from the hills. 

“What means it?” I whispered to Bill Heade, as 
though he ought to know, but he grunted a command 
to me to be quiet. 

“Fm not wantin’ more spell in th’ mines!” he said 
thickly. 

I held tongue, knowing the danger of it all, and 
realizing what capture meant to me. Mines—^aye, it 
meant worse than that for me, an I read aright the 
look in Enriquez’s eye. And I shuddered as I thought 
of what that fiend of a familiar might have in store for 
me, an he got me in his clutches again. 

Came presently, after what seemed like a month’s 
journeying of the sun, the sight for which we had been 
waiting. Clearly to be seen in the moon’s light rode a 
squadron of horsemen, their armor gleaming like silver, 
while their spears caught the light and glistened. They 
galloped on until they came level with us, and then 
passed forward over the way we had gone—only to 
come to a confused halt as there arose the baying of a 
hound—a sound which chilled the blood in my veins 
and well nigh made my heart stay in its beating. 

“The dogs—the dogs!” I heard the lowest of whis¬ 
pers from Heade. 

Low as it was, I sensed a terror in the tone— a, terror 
which I did not understand for a while. Then—I dared 
not speak with him—I did come to know; that company 
of men and horses out yonder suddenly began to move 

210 




THE ENGLISH SLAVE 


again, and when it did, it was coming towards us with 
strange leaping forms in the van of it. 

“The dogs—the dogs came Headers awed voice 
again, and he laid a hand upon my arm, a hand that 
had the grip of a vise in it. “Lad—his the end.” 

Bemused, I could not speak for a while, and it was 
only when Heade got him to his feet, and had the mule 
scramble erect that I found my tongue. 

“Whither away. Bill?” I asked. 

“Nowhere for me, but for you—lad, spring astride 
and go as fast as the brute can carry ye!” 

“Never!” I told him, swiftly. “ ’Tis stay with you 
and fight, aye, to the last breath.” 

“Sorry a fight indeed ’twill be!” he said, but it was 
in no bemoaning voice he spoke. “A boy with a sword, 
a man with a one-shotted pistol and a shovel. Shake 
hands on it, Roger!” 

So we shook, and then stood us side by side, ready 
for the moment that came with swift suddenness. A 
baying hound leaped out of the moonlight, and Heade’s 
shovel crashed at its skull, splitting it open, and next 
instant I had run my sword full into the broad chest 
of a second dog. It was a sword too big for me, and 
I missed the easy handling of my father’s cutlass, but 
nevertheless I found it useful. 

As I drew the blade out I heard the sharp report of 
a pistol and sensed rather than saw that Bill Heade had 
fired, and fired well, for there came a clatter, and then 
mingled oaths and jangle of steel. I saw a horse go 

2II 




THE FLAMING CROSS OF SANTA MARTA 


to his knees and several others crash into it as, unable 
to stop in their rush, they had found the obstacle before 
them. Then a moment or so later, the Dons were 
upon us, and in the moonlight I saw, even as I brought 
my sword down and sent a man’s hand flying from its 
wrist, the face of my enemy Enriquez. I saw him draw 
rein slightly as he recognized me, and, above the jangle 
of voices, and above the crash of Heade’s shovel as it 
struck on steel armor, I heard Enriquez’s voice: 

‘‘Rodney’s whelp! Take that boy alive!” 

I laughed shrilly at him. 

“Come take him yourself, you rogue!” I cried. 

I slashed at a horseman who had driven full at me 
with his lance couched and knocking away the lance 
I up-cut at the arm and the man yelped with the pain 
as he sped past me. Bill Heade bringing his shovel down 
upon the horse’s withers as it went by. 

They encircled us about, and it was almost laughable 
to see how, instead, after that first onset, they refrained 
from driving down upon us. Had they done so, noth¬ 
ing could have saved us alive, but I knew that it was 
because of Enriquez’s command that they did not crush 
us, nor fire pistol or musket. 

“Surrender!” came Enriquez’s voice, and again I 
laughed back at him. 

It seemed to infuriate him, and he issued from the 
circling Dons as though he would ride down upon me, 
the which I could have asked nothing better. But he 
went back, and I taunted him. For answer, he sud- 


212 





THE ENGLISH SLAVE 


denly shot from the band again and rode down upon 
me so that I was hard put to it to escape the sweep of 
his sword as he passed. I did so, however, and then 
saw Enriquez sway in his saddle as Bill Heade’s pistol, 
that he had flung at him, struck the man on the side of 
the skull. Then I was springing like a hind, and my 
sword rang as it struck the armored arm of the Don. 
But it was a hopeless encounter; Enriquez pulled at his 
rein, his horse reared and the hoofs that went up came 
down and smote me upon the chest so that I fell to the 
ground. Conscious I was, but with the breath pounded 
out of me, so that I was still lying there when Enriquez, 
springing from his steed, stood over me with his lance 
pointed at my throat. 




CHAPTER XIV 
PUT ON THE RACK 


A S in a dream I heard the roaring of a man^s 
voice, and the thump of feet on the ground, 
^ and I knew that it was Bill Heade come to the 
rescue. But Heade never reached my side—a babel of 
voices drowned his, and a moment or so later I heard 
the death-scream of the man who had thought himself 
free. Free? Aye, he was free now, and never more 
would he toil in the mines to fill the coffers of the Dons. 

For myself, I tried to rise, but the lance-point held 
me down, and Enriquez snarled at me: 

“You are caught, my young coxcomb, and there’s no 
escape this time!” 

He shouted something in Spanish which brought men 
up to him to whom he gave commands, the purport of 
which I knew all too well, for I was jerked to my 
feet and my sword knocked from my hand, a cord 
was tied about my wrists behind me, and, with my 
ankles bound, too, I was flung across the cropper of 
Enriquez’s horse like a sack of offal. 

I tell you, my masters, I wept with chagrin—wept 
at the cruel twist of fate’s wheel that had brought me 
to this pass just when I had thought the end of trouble 

214 


PUT ON THE RACK 


might be come to. I knew that I was in desperate 
plight indeed, for there would be no mercy for me at 
the hands of Enriquez and his cruel companions. 
Almost I found myself cursing the day that I had first 
met Dan Rodney; almost I called down the curse o^ 
heaven upon the Flaming Cross of Santa Marta, that 
had brought me to such a sorry pass; and I found 
myself lamenting the fool that I had been in not having 
killed this rogue Enriquez when we were together on 
an English ship. 

I writhed as I lay across the horse, and the animal 
shied in its stride, so that Enriquez, with an oath, struck 
me on the side of the head with something that felt 
like the fall of a mast upon me, and I dropped into 
kindly insensibility. 

How long I remained thus I do not know, but as it 
was I awoke to find myself staring up into a sunlit sky, 
and to hear the chatter of men’s tongues, and the champ 
of horses. Looking about me I saw that the Dons were 
busy at eating, and realized that they had halted awhile 
on the journey. 

I scanned their faces, looking for Enriquez, and him 
I found in due course, sitting apart from the rest, with 
a scowl upon his face —a scowl which deepened when 
he saw that I was awake. He got him to his feet and 
stepped over towards me, spurning me with his foot 
when he came to my side. 

‘‘Sit up, you dog!” he growled, but I lay and looked 
up at him, whereat he kicked me again. 

215 




THE FLAMING CROSS OF SANTA MARTA 


‘‘An you loose these hands of mine and put a sword 
in them, Fll take vengeance for that coward’s kick!” 
I mouthed at him, whereupon he struck me across the 
mouth and the blood spurted from my lips. 

“Sit up, dog, I say I” he told me. 

When I still did not move, he pulled me up on to 
my feet where I stood staring at him, with the Span¬ 
iards about gazing wonderingly upon me, and I 
could read that they marveled at my spirit in defying 
my captor. “If you would live, answer me these ques¬ 
tions,” he told me fiercely, thrusting his evil face into 
mine. 

“Naught will I answer now, any more than when 
you and your familiar would have had me speak,” I 
told him quietly. “So waste not your breath 1” 

I did think that he would strike me again, and I 
jerked me back a little, whereat he laughed. 

“Methinks I’ll find ways to loosen that tongue of 
yours, an you do not answer freely,” he said. “Now, 
tell me, you dog, whither goes that ship on which you 
came when it leaves the coast, or where they worked 
for?” 

“So they have gone?” I asked him, half gayly, though 
’twas but a cloak for my feelings, since my heart sank 
within me at the news; the Seeker of Pleasure had gone, 
and even had I reached the coast it would have been 
to find myself stranded, as I thought might be the case. 
“And the treasure and the Cross with them?” I taunted 

216 




PUT ON THE RACK 


him. Even in my own despondency I could not forbear 
doing that. ‘‘Much good has your plotting done!’’ 

Enriquez was like a mad wild man as he stamped his 
foot, and his eyes blazed at me, his hand gripped his 
sword hilt and I braced myself for the blow that should 
ease me of all my troubles. But it came not. Instead, 
his lips curled with a devilish smile before which I do 
confess I quaked. 

“Whither go your friends?’^ he demanded again, and 
still kept silence. 

Then he began with threats and bullying, with blows 
and with curses, to try to get me to tell him—aye, he 
even tried hypocritical pleading, and made wide prom¬ 
ises of safety and freedom, the which I did not trust, 
and for which I would not have told him one word, 
even had I known, which I did not, whither the Seeker 
of Pleasure was going. There had been naught said 
amongst us on the ship as to what should happen after 
the treasure was recovered, though I did have it in my 
mind that haply Richford might go seeking Drake’s fleet 
and join it in the cruise, if his men were not too glutted 
of adventure and too anxious to get them home to the 
spending of the wealth they had acquired. 

This much, however, I did not tell Enriquez, either 
of my ignorance or of my thoughts, and I found joy 
in watching his impotent fury. 

Impotent, did I write ? I was to know ere long that 
the man had power—power of life and death—aye, 
power of worse than death itself. When he at last did 

217 





THE FLAMING CROSS OF SANTA MARTA 


find that I was not to be bullied or cajoled into speech, 
he thrust me from him with a cruel blow, and shouted 
an order which brought his men to horse, and presently, 
we were going across the plain, making a detour of the 
hills, the horses being put to the task at utmost speed, 
as if Enriquez had engaged in a race against time. 

And so we went, coming at last within sight of the 
white-walled town of Santa Marta, that I had not seen 
in daylight before. I picked out its church gleaming in 
the sun, and shuddered as I thought of what awaited 
me there—audience, I doubted not, of that berobed 
familiar, who would take pleasure in his revenge on 
me for the handling I had given him—aye, and make 
me pay for the breaking of that rich window through 
which I had hurled myself! 

The great gate opened when we reached the walls, and 
we passed through into the street, and so, between lines 
of watching people, to the church. Outside the court¬ 
yard surrounding it the soldiers were drawn up right 
and left, the while that Enriquez, with me flung still 
across the saddle, went inside. There, rough hands 
pulled me from my place and set me upon my feet. 
Enriquez dismounted and prodded me forward with the 
point of his sword. 

“On, dog!” he rapped at me, and I was fain to obey. 

In through a nail-studded door I was driven, along 
a dim passageway, and so into a room lighted then 
only by the sun's rays that came in rare coloring 
through the rich windows, except that there was a 

218 






PUT ON THE RACK 


splash of white light to one side, where the sounds of 
men working attracted my attention, and I laughed 
shortly as I recognized the room and saw that the men 
were engaged on mending the window that I had broken 
when I had made the escape that had proved all so much 
futile effort, since I was back once more, a prisoner. 

It was as though our coming had been heralded, for 
scarcely had we entered the room, Enriquez and I, than 
a door opened almost noiselessly at the farther end, and 
I saw a man walking towards us with catlike tread and 
hands folded across his chest. I do remember how my 
blood seemed to curdle as I remembered the evil that 
had shone in the man’s eyes that night when I had seen 
him before. There came to me the memory of many 
things the which my own father had told me of how 
the men of the Inquisition wrought evil in the name of 
God, and I had it in my heart that with free hands I 
would have encircled them about this man’s throat. But 
I was powerless and I knew it—I knew, too, when the 
priest stood in front of me and gazed down upon me 
with the thin, tight-pressed lips bearing witness to the 
evil in his soul—that I was like a caged bird which 
might break its wings upon the wires and exhaust itself 
in futile efforts for liberty. 

‘‘So you have come back!” 

The words were snarled through the man’s lips after 
a while of gazing upon me, and the smile that accom¬ 
panied them frightened me, though I resolved not to 
show it. 


219 




THE FLAMING CROSS OF SANTA MARTA 


Then he spoke something to Enriquez which I did 
not understand, and Enriquez answered him, where¬ 
upon by the look on the man’s face I did gather that 
it had been question and answer about the success of 
the expedition to the coast. In which I was proved 
right, very presently. 

‘^Then this rogue shall tell us what we would know !’* 
the man rasped in English. 

“That I have tried and failed,” Enriquez replied in 
the same tongue. “ ’Tis of no use, the gentle method.” 

“Then will we try other ways,” was the reply, and 
the laugh that issued from his throat sent chilly shudders 
down my limbs. I watched the man step aside a little 
and tug at a rope hanging down the wall, then I heard 
the clang of a bell and knew that he had rung for some 
one else to come. 

I waited, wondering greatly what was afoot. 

Then another door opened, this time behind me, and 
I turned me around sharply and cowered from what I 
saw. 

It was a man, indeed, but all too little like a man, and 
too much like what the mind might fashion a devil’s 
shape into. Short he was, with arms that hung below 
his knees, the which were bent outward as though they 
could scarce uphold the stoutly built body of him. A 
great beard dropped from his chin on to his chest, and 
shaggy brows half smothered the eyes, which, neverthe¬ 
less, gleamed horribly in the half light of the room. 

He walked, nay, almost groveled towards the Inquisi- 

220 




PUT ON THE RACK 


tor, crossing himself as he did so, and the man said 
something to him which brought a spreading grin to his 
mouth which, opening, revealed two yellow teeth— 
teeth that were more like fangs indeed. Then answer¬ 
ing back, he stepped towards the door through which 
he had entered, keeping his face to the priest as he 
did so. 

“Follow him, dogT’ came Enriquezes voice, as his 
sword pricked my tied hands. 

I hesitated; the sword touched me again and brought 
a short cry of pain from me, and I swung me round 
with blazing eyes upon my tormentor, who laughed 
at me and, ’fore I knew it, had stroked my chin with 
his blade. Bound as I was I flung myself forward, 
but the shimmering blade was between my eyes, and I 
turned and fell full into the outstretched arms of the 
evil-looking dwarf. 

Those arms! They were strong. I’ll vow, as if they 
had been made of steel, and they crushed my bound 
arms to my sides, and I fancied me I heard my ribs 
crack beneath the strain. I was like a babe indeed, for 
that stunted rogue picked me up bodily and carried me 
struggling though I was, out through the door, with 
Enriquez and priest following us; and I could hear the 
taunting, mocking laugh of Enriquez. 

Down a long passage we went until we reached a 
door, where the dwarf stooped and Enriquez the In¬ 
quisitor pressed by to open it. I lashed out with my 
bound feet and that irreverent rascal cursed me loudly. 


221 





THE FLAMING CROSS OF SANTA MARTA 


so that I laughed, for I knew that I had struck him 
truly and well, though where, I could not tell. 

Then the door was swung upon rusty hinges, as I 
could hear, and we went in; then down another passage 
and, despite my continued struggles, down steps until 
we came to what I judged was an underground cham¬ 
ber, from the smell of it. Lights there were here, the 
lights of torches stuck in the wall as I did see when I 
was set upon my feet, and a great fire blazed at one end 
of the chamber. 

Like fiends in a devil's pit, forms rose up as we 
entered, and moved towards us, and I shuddered as 
they came, for never did man set eyes on more evil¬ 
looking men than these; and from somewhere beyond 
came the baying of a hound—the call of a dog for 
food, an I knew aught of such things. 

“Speak—or 'tis the rack!" said Enriquez suavely. 
“'Tis the last chance that we shall give you!" 

That which I do now write, I write without shame, 
nor care what men may think. I had heard of the 
rack—had heard of men stretched upon its infamous 
bed of agony until their very limbs did come from their 
sockets; aye, I had heard, too, of men whose feet had 
been slashed with the canes until madness had seized 
them, and of men whose flesh had been seared with red- 
hot irons, and their eyes scorched in their sockets. 
Small wonder, then, that my erstwhile courage oozed 
from me like water from a wrung shirt. 

“Not that," I cried. “Not that!" 


222 




PUT ON THE RACK 


‘^Speak, then!” came the gloating reply from 
Enriquez, who seized me roughly by the arm and swung 
me round so that my eyes were staring into his. 
''Whither go your companions, and how many ships 
have they?’' 

"One ship there is,” I told him, cringing from him, 
but held tightly in that viselike grip, so that I winced 
at the pain of it. "One ship—but I know not whither 
it goes!” 

"You lie—you lie!” he screamed at me, shaking me 
as a dog shakes a rat. "You know, but you will not 
tell. Think not to deceive me! Speak!” 

"I tell you I know not!” I exclaimed, whereat he 
raised his voice, at which those devil’s pawns flung 
themselves upon me and lifted me, carried me across 
that hell-chamber, my cries ringing through it, and 
forced me down upon something, I knew not what. 
And held me there—held me there while I felt hands 
loosening the bonds about my ankles, and then other 
bonds were fastened to them, so that I could not move 
either leg an inch. Then my hands were served in like 
manner, and I lay staring up at the earthen roof above 
me, with a dull dread in my heart. 

I heard a creaking, and wondered what it meant. 
Then presently I felt a straining of my limbs, and I 
knew. I screamed with the terror of it; of pain there 
was none yet, but I seemed to feel it nevertheless, before 
it came. And when it came, I screamed more wildly, 
so that I drowned the scornful laugh of Enriquez, 

223 





THE FLAMING CROSS OF SANTA MARTA 


whose face was close to mine, the eyes of it 
gloating over me in my agony. 

‘‘Speak!” he said, hoarsely; and at his word it came 
to me that I might save myself this horror. I did not 
know that which he would have had me tell him, but—I 
could lie, and heaven would forgive a man who lied in 
such circumstances. 

“Ease you this torture!” I panted. “And I will 
speak.” 

“Nay, speak now 1” was the cruel answer. “Whither 
goes the ship? Aye, and what is its name?” 

“It goes—to meet Drake and Hawkins. Its name is 
the Seeker of Pleasure/' I lied. “For pity’s sake ease 
me!” 

For answer, that fiend said something to the torturers 
and the pain increased, I knew what was in his mind. 
He thought that an I were lying he would force me to 
retract and speak the truth. But, not so was I to be 
trapped, even in that my agony, and I screamed that 
’twas the truth indeed I spoke, whereat, he spoke again, 
and it did seem to me that my whole body sagged like 
a bundle of boneless flesh. The winch of the rack flew 
back and the strain ceased all at once—too soon, indeed, 
so that the agony of release was almost as bad as the 
pain of the stretching. 

I felt myself drifting into a darkness, though I knew 
that my eyes were still open. Then I strained as though 
I would keep awake to know what meant the shouting 
that I heard: 


224 





PUT ON THE RACK 


‘‘El Inglesh—El Inglesh!” The words were shouted 
by some one whom I could not see, and I do think that 
they served to recall me from the stupor into which I 
was falling. I looked again and saw a strange man run 
to where Enriquez and the Inquisitor stood. He 
mouthed strange things at them, whereat, the two did 
go hurrying from the chamber, leaving me where I 
was, with those fiends of torturers about me. 

A great chattering there was amongst them, the which 
I understood but little of, though I strained my ears, 
and presently did smile through my pain. For, by a 
word here and there did I gather something that sent 
the blood coursing through my veins at great speed, 
and I could have shouted with the joy of it. 

That shouted warning—for warning I now knew it 
to be—of the man who had blundered in, had meant 
that there were English advancing on the city, and 
the few words I did manage to pick out of all the chatter 
of the Spanish tongues told of a goodly number. 

Aye, I could have shouted for very joy, I say; for 
it meant but one thing to me—Richford had not for¬ 
saken me. He had come to quest for me in Santa 
Marta. Then, as I thought, a new idea came to my 
mind; mayhap it was not Richford, but Drake him¬ 
self—Drake bent on sacking Santa Marta, and not 
knowing aught of my presence there. What if he had 
come over the hills, and, using the chart that I had 
scrawled for him, had found the place of the hidden 
treasure—^but not the treasure; and thinking that some- 


225 




THE FLAMING CROSS OF SANTA MARTA 


how the Dons at Santa Marta had discovered the secret 
of it, resolved to sack the city? 

Which of these two things were the truth, I knew 
not. Neither did I care. All that mattered to me was 
that there were Englishmen advancing on Santa Marta, 
and soon I should be free. 




CHAPTER XV 

THE SACKING OF SANTA MARTA 


D espite the hope that lived in my breast at 
the thought of the coming of the English force, 
the hours that I lay in the torture chamber, 
still on the rack, for those fiends made no attempt to 
release me, were filled with no little terror for me. The 
very presence of the torturers was horrible. Anon, 
they would come and stare at me with their evil eyes, 
and show their yellow teeth, and leer and jeer, and, as 
if it gave them pleasure, turn the winch of the rack and 
give me a twinge of pain. When they left me, I could, 
by raising my head, though it caused me agony, see 
them in the far corner sitting about the fire, drinking 
from large bowls, and their raucous voices were lifted 
up in what, I doubted not, were vile songs, the which I 
was glad I knew not the meaning of. 

Yet even above their rowdiness, ever and anon there 
came to me the muffled roar that, from experience, I 
knew was the sound of gunfire; and I lay wondering 
how things were going up above. Strange it was to me 
that these men should take so little heed of it all; it was 
as though they felt themselves safe—as though they 
believed that the Dons would be able to drive off the 

227 


THE FLAMING CROSS OF SANTA MARTA 


attackers, and at the thought I shivered with appre¬ 
hension, and found myself mumbling prayers as I had 
not done for many a day. 

How long I lay thus, I knew not; it seemed as 
though days went by, yet it could have been but a few 
hours before I heard a sound as of a door being burst 
open unceremoniously behind me, then the quick pad¬ 
ding of feet on the earthen floor. A voice spoke—and 
I knew it for that of Enriquez; at the sound of it the 
dwarfs got staggeringly to their feet and crowded about 
him, but he thrust them aside, and soon he was stand¬ 
ing above me. 

“That, for a liar!’’ he screamed, and struck me a full¬ 
handed blow on the face. “You spoke of one ship— 
there were more, and their men are swarming 
through the town. Ho—ho!” And at the call the 
dwarfs came towards him. He spoke to them, and next 
moment I knew what it was he had said. I felt the 
strain begin on my limbs again, and grow until I 
thought that I must die with the pain of it. But there 
was worse to come. My half-blind eyes, dulled with 
the pain of it all, were suddenly confronted with some¬ 
thing that glowed in the gloom, and, opening them, 
I saw a redness before me—a redness that burned 
without touching. It came nearer and nearer, like 
some vile beast of prey in the night, torturing me with 
its scorching . . . bringing screams from my well-nigh 
bursting lungs and parched throat. 

And then it dropped away, the man who had held 

228 




THE SACKING OF SANTA MARTA 


it screamed himself, but why, I knew not then, for I 
had fainted. 

When I came to, it was to find myself lying on a 
comfortable bed that seemed to me like heaven; and, 
opening my eyes, I shut them again quickly, for the 
light was painful. And there came back to me the 
memory of that red thing that had seemed to be eating 
my sight from me. I shuddered as I thought of it, and 
opened my eyes again. Only dimly could I see, as 
though there were a film across my vision, but I could 
see a vague form at my side, and stretched out a hand as 
though I would ward oif some unknown danger. 

“La, Roger!’' a voice said, and a hand seized mine. 
And the voice was the voice of Dan Rodney. 

“Dan!” I sobbed—^and broke me out into tears 
which made my poor eyes smart. 

Dan held my hand tightly and let me weep, and I 
felt no shame for the doing so. He spoke no word 
until I had at long last composed myself, and then 
he said softly, almost crooningly, as a mother might to 
a sick child: 

“Roger—thank God you live, and that we were in 
time!” 

I opened my eyes again, and it seemed as though 
the tears had served to heal them somewhat, for I could 
make out his bearded face more clearly, and saw some¬ 
thing of his look as he gazed upon me, and thanked 
heaven for a goodly friend. 

“Tell me!” I asked. “Tell me—where are we? The 

229 




THE FLAMING CROSS OF SANTA MARTA 


fight—how went it? The treasure—the Cross?” 

“A-many a question, Roger!” Dan said, with a soft 
laugh. ’Twould take long in the answering of them. 
But an you’d know where we be, ’tis in Santa Marta— 
lording it over the villain Dons who remain—^though 
most be fled. The men of ours be now sacking the 
place, and from all reports there do be goodly treasure!” 

“But the Cross?” I asked insistently. 

“Lad, we have it on the Seeker of Pleasure!” Dan 
told me simply. “Some other time I’ll tell the tale. 
Wouldst know how came it we’re here? Aye, I see 
you would. Then listen.” 

And he began to tell me of what had happened since 
last I had seen him. The fight in the hills had gone all 
against the Spaniards, many of whom had been killed, 
and the rest captured, or so Dan thought until I told 
him of the man who had brought the news to Santa 
Marta. Prisoners who had been taken, on being ques¬ 
tioned, had, under pressure, told that he who had led 
them to the hills had been Enriquez, and a search had 
been made for him. He was nowhere to be seen, and 
then it was discovered that I was missing too. I was 
not to be found among either killed or wounded, and no 
man had seen the going of me; whereupon, the 
patching of the tale had been done and it was 
decided that I had somehow been spirited away 
by Enriquez; only my father’s cutlass was found 
to show that I had been disarmed, at any 
rate. Men had been sent on to the plain on mule back, 

230 


THE SACKING OF SANTA MARTA 


but had seen no trace of a fugitive, and had come back 
to report thus. In the meantime, the search for the 
treasure had begun; men went down the great cleft, and 
by many hours of labor moved the big rock from where 
it had lain these many years, and then dug deep into 
the earth until they came to the bags that held the 
treasure looted from Santa Marta. 

Dan had been carried to the spot, and he lay and 
watched the bags being brought up, every one of them 
being placed before him that he might look for the 
mark on that which held the Flaming Cross. And, at 
last, it had come up. 

“I ripped it open, lad,” he told me, with the light of 
triumph in his eyes; ‘'and took out the great red Cross. 
The rubies flashed in the moon’s light—and the men 
gazed on it with awe, while the Spaniards, who were 
prisoners, cried aloud when they saw it. I tell you, 
Roger, ’twas a rare moment for me—and I could have 
shouted wi’ the joy of it an it had not been that you 
were not there! Lad, I thought that I had lost you!” 

“And I, you,” I told him softly. “But what then?” 

“Why, Roger, we got together what of the mules the 
Spaniards had brought that we could,” he said, “and 
loaded them with the bags. Captain Richford scrawled 
a message with a charred stick on a piece of wood, and 
stuck it in the ground to tell Enriquez, an he came that 
way again, that the Flaming Cross had gone from him 
forever, and vowing that we would have Francis Drake 
fall upon him ere long and get you from him!” 

231 





THE FLAMING CROSS OF SANTA MARTA 


‘‘You did that!” I exclaimed, and pressed the hand 
that held mine. “No wonder he thought I lied when” 
—and I shuddered as I thought of it—“when I lay on 
the rack and told him that there was one ship only. But. 
go on, Dan, my tale will wait!” 

“We went us back to the coast and got aboard the 
Seeker of Pleasure/' Dan continued, and then Richford 
and I fell to taking counsel what was to be done. I was 
for going straightway along the coast and landing 
every man jack to the sacking of Santa Marta, but 
Richford was of another mind, and a wiser mind than 
me, after all. He vowed that we had not enough men 
for the work, and that ’twould be best for us to go 
seeking Drake and Hawkins. Then, even while we 
were planning, Roger, a sail hove in sight, and we fell 
to preparing for battle, thinking it to be a Don. But 
it was not. It proved to be a ship from Drake’s fleet, 
lost in a storm and alone. Lad, it brought sad news 
to us!” 

“Yes?” I breathed. 

“It brought us the news that John Hawkins had died, 
and was cast into the sea that he loved so much.” 

I tell you that the news did make me sob, and I lay 
holding Dan’s hand awhile, scarce knowing what else 
to do. Dan, too, was filled with emotion, for there was 
not a man in all England who had not loved the great 
sailor who had first showed the Dons that the New 
World was not for them alone. And now—he was 
dead. . . . 

232 




THE SACKING OF SANTA MARTA 


“And Drake?” I asked presently. 

“He, too, was sick when the ship that came to us last 
heard of him,” Dan told me. “The plan had been, 
as you know, to sack Puerto Rico, but the Dons had got 
wind of it, and the plan miscarried, so that the fleet 
put oflF. Then the storm came. Lad, 'twas not alto¬ 
gether a curse, that storm, for it brought us—here, to 
you!” 

“How?” I asked him wonderingly. 

“We told the captain of the ship what had happened, 
and how we proposed to go questing for Drake, though 
I did not forget my own old plan, and in the end, Roger, 
I had my way. With these newcomers we were strong 
—two hundred men we could put ashore, and all of 
them armed, together with cannon from the ships. So 
it was decided, an the men were willing, which they 
were, God bless them, that we would sail along the 
coast somewhat, and then landing, march us upon Santa 
Marta. Lad, it was like the old, old days, and for all 
my sick chest, I would not have been out of it for all 
the treasure we had got. Well, Roger, we came, just 
at the setting of sun. But we were discovered, and 
horsemen came out to meet us. We drove them back 
with cannon fire and then we followed them to the 
city walls. We breached the walls and got us way in, 
and I, who know not a little, as I have told you, of the 
ways of the Don, did plan with Richford that we make 
first for the church, for I had little doubt ’twas here 

233 




THE FLAMING CROSS OF SANTA MARTA 


we’d find you. Ah, yes, Roger, I know their ways, and 
I know not a little of the Holy Inquisition!” 

“Holy!” I exclaimed. “Unholy!”—and shuddered 
as I thought of what had happened to me at the hands of 
its servants. 

“Happened it,” went on Dan, after a while, “that 
there was a man amongst us who once had been in Santa 
Marta and suffered there, and he knew where the tor¬ 
ture chamber was. Lad, we blew holes in the church, 
and hacked a way in, one body of us, while the rest 
scurried the Dons through the streets and sent them 
fleeing out of the gates. We got us in, I say, and made 
us straightway for the chamber underground. Lad, 
I was there—I saw that devil with his branding iron— 
and the arm that held it dropped as I lopped at it. 
I—” He paused as some one entered the room and 
came to my bed. I saw that it was Captain Richford. 

“Dan Rodney!” he said, then stopped, as he saw that 
I was awake. “Roger, I’ll say that I’m pleased to see 
you again.” 

“And I you, sir!” I told him. “And I’ll thank you, 
too, sir!” 

“Pshaw!” he said, as if it were a small thing he had 
done. “We’ll be reaping a rich harvest from the ven¬ 
ture, lad. The which I have come to tell Dan Rodney. 
We’ve scoured the city, Dan, and burst open the treas¬ 
ure house, which was filled to the brim. I’ve had the 
wine and the spirits poured into the gutters, lest the men 
get drunk and now I do think ’tis time that we made 

234 



THE SACKING OF SANTA MARTA 


us back to the coast, for I have learned that there be 
ships lying off the cape—the ships that came with 
Enriquez. ^Twas he who told me so, though he wanted 
not to. His own rack and fire irons made him!” And 
Richford laughed as he spoke. *‘Aye, lad,” he said, “I 
gave him a taste of his own physic, and he likes it not.” 

'Where is he?” I asked. 

“Well held, and coming with us when we go—’twas 
Dan Rodney’s request that we kill not him. I think 
Dan has a mind to take his own vengeance, eh?” 

Dan nodded grimly. 

“I have scores to wipe out with him,” he said. “And 
now, about a litter for this young rascal of ours?” 

“We’ll swing him one between two mules,” was the 
reply. 

Although I protested that I would walk, I found that 
I could not, and so had to submit to being placed, in 
due course, in the litter between two mules, and was 
carried thus down to the coast—a long journey and 
none too comfortable a one for me, though I complained 
not, as you may guess! The men of the ships were 
happy, and sang as they marched, driving and leading 
the heavily laden mules, and well-nigh every man carry¬ 
ing something himself that he had looted from Santa 
Marta. 

“Set him in front of me!” I said to Dan, when we 
started, and I saw Enriquez led out of the church and 
tied upon a mule. “I would fain watch him!” 

Enriquez turned on me and snarled like a mad dog, 

235 




THE FLAMING CROSS OF SANTA MARTA 


and mouthed at his own impotence, and I do confess 
that during that journey I ofttimes did call out to him, 
taunting him, and enjoyed the futile gnashing of his 
teeth. 

Came we at last to the coast, where I saw the two 
ships at anchor in a well-sheltered bay, and men on 
board cheered the men on land when they saw them 
returning so heavily laden. 

*'Nay, Dan,” I said eagerly, when Rodney would 
have sent me aboard at once. “IM like to stay and see 
the loading of the barges with the treasure! Mind you 
that I have ne’er seen it done?” 

I laughed greatly at the playfulness of it, as though 
I were still a schoolboy who knew naught of these 
things except what was told him by men from the far 
seas. 

So I sat me on a rock and watched, and joyed in the 
watching. Boat after boat put oif from the shore, 
laden to the water’s surface with fat riches from the 
city, and the business took several hours. The whim¬ 
sical spirit that had seized me had made me make one 
more request of Dan, and that was that Enriquez 
should sit nigh me and watch too; and if ever a man 
looked moonstruck, it was Enriquez, as he saw the 
treasures from Santa Marta go aboard the ships after 
they had been spread out upon the shore and divided 
amongst the two vessels, for it had been agreed that 
there should be shares according to the number of men 
in each ship. Such a rare sight it was 1 Rich goblets 

236 


THE SACKING OF SANTA MARTA 


of gold, studded with precious stones. Ornaments 
from the church; rich hangings from the houses; doub¬ 
loons and pieces of eight in sackfuls—aye, it was indeed 
a prize worth the taking. 

At last it was all done; the last piece of eight was 
aboard, and only Richford, Dan Rodney and Enriquez 
and I were left on the shore, with a boat rocking to 
the lap of the waves, waiting to take us on board to the 
Seeker of Pleasure. 

‘^Dan Rodney,^’ said Richford suddenly, ‘T have a 
mind to lash this rogue to a rock and leave him to stare 
his life out across the sea! What say you?’' 

‘‘He is my foe I” was Dan’s reply. “He goes aboard 
the Seeker of Pleasure, to abide my pleasure, to wait 
until this chest of mine, the which he did strip of its 
skin, shall be fit enough for me to wield sword with 
chance of man to man. He is mine! I fight not with 
filthy hands 1” 

“Do as you will, Dan!” said Richford. When we 
went to the Seeker of Pleasure, the now subdued and 
cringing Enriquez went with us, and, being thrown into 
irons, was cast into the hold. 

“There is somewhat to wipe off on your account, 
Roger!” said Dan Rodney to me, when this was done. 

During the journey from Santa Marta I had told him 
all that had happened to me, and he had gnashed his 
teeth with rage, so that I had thought often that he 
would fall upon Enriquez and flay him alive! And I 
should have found naught of pity for the Don. . . . 

237 




THE FLAMING CROSS OF SANTA MARTA 


Suffering, caused by such callous, brutal methods, does 
take much of the softness from a man’s heart. . . . 

We went down to Richford’s cabin and sat us down 
to a great feast, while up above the men caroused, 
though not too unwisely, since Richford was of a mind 
to be off. There were with us the captain from the 
other vessel and his officers, and during the meal it was 
discussed what should be done next. Richford was for 
going home to Plymouth. Dan was for seeking out 
Drake, and so was the other captain; and as there was 
diversity of opinion, it was resolved that the men of the 
ships should vote, as was ofttimes the custom in enter¬ 
prises of this sort. 

Therefore, Captain Richford put it to his crew, and 
to a man they swore that they would go to Plymouth. 
Why need they stay longer ? The hold was filled almost 
to overflowing! 

Back from his own ship came the captain of our 
comrade, and the tale he had to tell was the same. Sick 
at heart over the disasters that had befallen Drake’s 
fleet, and satisfied with their share of the plunder from 
Santa Marta, they, too, were for home; and so it was 
that, the feasting over, the two ships unfurled their 
sails and put to sea. 

As for me, I stood on the deck watching the line of 
the coast disappear into a blue haze; and I could not find 
it in my heart to lament that I was leaving the inhospi¬ 
table land, though I would have given much to have 
known how fared Francis Drake. Aye, I would have 

238 




THE SACKING OF SANTA MARTA 


given much in that moment to have been aboard the 
Defiance with him, bound whither he would go. . . . 
But, I turned me round and faced the other way; be¬ 
yond there was England! Home I Nay, not home, for 
home I had none, and I doubted me not that after a 
while the sea would call me again. . . . And I should 
answer. Now, I was going back—going with the treas¬ 
ure and the Cross we had come so far and suffered so 
much to seek. . . . 

The Cross? Ffaith, I had not yet seen it, and I went 
me hurrying to find out Dan Rodney. 

I found him snoring, and waked him. 

‘‘Dan,’’ I said, “I would see the Flaming Cross?” 

“Let a man sleep—the bauble will wait!” he growled, 
but he got up and led me to Captain Richford’s cabin. 
“The boy would see the Cross,” he told the captain, 
who, laughing, went to his strong chest and opening 
it, delved into its depths and brought out something 
wrapped up in a silken covering. He laid it on the 
table and my fingers itched to help him as, leisurely, as 
though he would torment me, he unwrapped it. 

“Hurry!” I exclaimed, and with a laugh, he at last 
whipped away the covering, and my eyes were almost 
blinded by the glare as the lamplight fell upon the rubies 
that fashioned the Flaming Cross. “Aye, a very flame 
indeed!” I cried; and watched in wonder the flashing 
of fire that came from it. “Men would die for it!” 

“Men have died for it!” said Dan Rodney quietly. 
“And we nearly, Roger!” 




CHAPTER XVI 
BOUND FOR CADIZ 


“XjriDE it!” I said. ‘‘An those cutthroat heroes 

I I of ours know where ^tis they’ll likely risk 
death for it 1” 

Strange thing to say, but neither Richford nor Dan 
Rodney seemed to think so. The captain wrapped the 
Cross up again, and placed it back in the chest. 

“Methinks you’re right, Roger,” he said, slowly. 
“Men would risk the devil’s fire for that. Thus have 
I had it placed here that I may guard it for—^you and 
Dan!” 

And I remembered that by compact the Flaming 
Cross was not ours, the which we had not told Richford. 

“Nay,” I said quickly. “ ’Tis not ours, except in 
trust—in trust for the Queen’s Most Excellent Majesty, 
God bless her. We will guard it with our lives 1” 

“We will!” said the two men, and the three of us 
clasped hands upon it. 

Little did we know what we were to be called upon 
to do to preserve that Flaming Cross for Queen Bess 1 

I draw me near to the end of my tale, and ere pen¬ 
ning this last chapter I have reread what I have already 
written, wondering the while whether I have left out 

240 


BOUND FOR CADIZ 


much that belongs to it. Some things there are that I 
have not put in, but that is because I would not over¬ 
weary any who might read the story; but they be things 
that I do know had naught to do with the Flaming 
Cross. Those events that I have lined are all of some 
connection with our quest; the rest matters not. 

And now, as I come to scrawl the last words, I do 
remember that when we three, Dan Rodney, Captain 
Richford and I, clasped hands in compact that we would 
guard the Flaming Cross for Queen Bess, the most that 
did enter my mind was that we might have to guard it 
against the cupidity of our own men, or, perchance, 
have to fight, here and there on the way home, a Spanish 
ship, the which we would not be loath to do an the need 
arose. And, if that need did arise, we had little doubt 
that it would come while we were yet in the western 
seas, or mayhap when we got nigh unto England. 

We feared not; stout were both our ships, and well 
manned and well armed, and we knew that our men 
would fight like demons, since our holds were filled 
with the treasure that meant ease of life an it should 
be gotten home. 

Yet, by the providence of heaven, we were not 
molested while we were in the seas of the Main. We 
threaded our way through between the islands that lay 
like sentinels off the mainland, and never a ship did w^ 
see; and for nigh on two months we sped us on our 
way homeward without sighting sail of any kind. So 
that we began to grow careless, and the men lay about 

241 




THE FLAMING CROSS OF SANTA MARTA 


the decks in abandon, or in dreams. Soon we should 
see the shores of England. . . . That was enough for 
us. Fate was being kind to us. Naught of ill would 
touch us now. 

And then the thunderbolt fell from the skies upon us. 
We raised a sail to the starboard, and then another and 
another and still more; and men who had been lazing 
idly sprang to alertness, for it was not known what 
manner of ships these might be. We were in the Chan¬ 
nel itself, it is true, but that did not mean that we were 
safe from harm; we got us ready, lest there be need. 

We held on, all eyes agog to pick out the character 
of the strangers, and at last the tension was broken by 
the cry of the watch in the barrel above. 

‘‘Ships ahoy! They be English 

Whereat we cheered, and set course to meet them, the 
which we did, and dipped our flags in salutation when 
we came near. 

Greatly wondering, we saw a boat slip from the side 
of one great ship, whose portholes frowned with guns, 
tier on tier. We watched the barge come towards the 
Seeker of Pleasure, and presently we were hailed. 

“Ahoy there!” came the shout, and an officer an¬ 
swered the call. “What ships be you?” 

Whereat our watch did tell, and ask a like question. 

The answer to that set us agape, for it was nothing 
less than that the ships we saw were the English fleet 
bound for Cadiz! 

“Send you your captain aboard the flagship,” 

242 


came 




BOUND FOR CADIZ 


the order, and Rich ford could do naught but obey, while 
the captain of our companion vessel was also sent for, 
and went. 

“What does it mean, Dan?” I asked Rodney, as we 
saw the two boats go away. 

“That we’ll know in good time!” was the reply. 
In truth we did, for when Captain Richford, after a 
lengthy absence, returned, he piped all hands on deck 
and told them what had happened aboard the Admiral’s 
ship. 

“The Admiral orders that we join the fleet I” he said. 
“He’ll be wanting all the ships he can get, and is de¬ 
sirous that two such well manned, well armed ships like 
ours shall go with him.” 

“What told you him?” a voice demanded, and Rich- 
ford swung round like a flash questing for the man. 

“What think you!” he shot at him. “I told him that 
where the Queen’s Admiral called and was heard, there 
was but one answer: We’re going!’ ” 

Whereat, there was a cheer, though here and there 
I noticed glum faces and silent mouths. From our 
comrade ship came another roar, and I knew that what 
had happened with us had happened there also. And 
in a little while we had fallen in amongst the fleet, and 
were plowing our way towards Spain. 

Two days later, we saw the line of the land to the 
east, and signals that I knew not the meaning of passed 
between the ships. 


243 




THE FLAMING CROSS OF SANTA MARTA 


“We attack in the morning/’ said Dan to me. “God 
keep you, Roger 1” 

And then was off on some duty that was given him, 
and I saw him not again to speak with until, the dawn 
breaking, the first gun was fired, and then the cannonade 
became fast and furious, ships in the lee of the town 
that I could see in the distance, answering the firing. 

Of that battle in Cadiz Harbor you may read much 
in your books, but there be some things that are left 
out. This is one such thing: it is not told that the fight 
that lasted all day long was not all in favor of our ships, 
and that towards evening it seemed as if the Dons would 
drive us off; it is a strange way that the writers of his¬ 
tory have, in that they do oft conceal the unpleasant 
facts and pin them to the pleasant! But that I do speak 
is true, and there was a council held in the evening as 
to what should be done. The captain of every ship in 
the fleet was taken into that council and, why, I know 
not, Dan Rodney and I were amongst the men who 
went to the Admiral’s ship with Captain Rich ford. 

We waited on the deck for a long time, wondering 
what was going to happen, and talking with men, learn¬ 
ing from them things that had happened in England 
since we left, and telling them things that set their pulses 
throbbing, I doubt not, of what had taken place on the 
Main; and some of them, rugged men as they were, 
wept when they learned of the death of John Hawkins. 

“ ’Tis God’s truth that never a finer man sailed the 
seas than he!” shouted a man, and I saw Dan Rodney 

244 




BOUND FOR CADIZ 


start at the voice of him. Then Rodney had sprung at 
him, and was shaking his hand furiously: 

^ “By the Lord Harry!’' he cried. “If ’tis not Ben 
Pengowan! Old Ben—good old Ben!” 

“Lord save us, it’s Dan Rodney!” said the man. “He 
who hid the Flaming Cross of Santa Marta. Well do 
I remember the tale, Dan, and—^Lord save us—what’s 
the matter, Dan?” 

I looked at Dan, and I too was amazed at what I saw 
on his face; it was set grimly, and his eyes shone with 
something that I could not understand. His hand 
dropped to his side, listlessly, and he padded it away 
from us, and we saw him approach an officer, pull his 
forelock, and presently begin to speak. 

“Has the man gone mad?” Ben Pengowan said, and 
indeed I wondered whether there might not be truth in 
his words, more so, when presently I saw Dan follow 
the officer below decks. He was away a long time, and 
when he came back, it was in the wake of swaggering 
men before whom the crew fell away. 

“Who are they?” I asked Pengowan, and he told me 
that they were the fleet captains; and I saw Richford 
amongst them, close to Dan Rodney. 

They went overside, each to his own boat, and I fol¬ 
lowed Richford and Dan, neither saying a word to me 
until we reached the Seeker of Pleasure, When we 
were on deck, Richford went down to his cabin and 
beckoned me to follow him. 

245 




THE FLAMING CROSS OF SANTA MARTA 


I went—^and I saw him when he entered go, with a 
smile on his face, to the great iron-bound chest. 

‘Tt is indeed a great thought, Dan!” he said mysteri¬ 
ously, and I blurted out to know what it was. 

Then they told me, and I stared at them as if they 
had both gone mad. 

I do tell you, my masters, that it was as strange a 
thing as ever man heard, that they told me. It was 
nothing less than that Dan Rodney had craved audience 
of the Admiral, and said that he had a plan whereby to 
scare the Dons and, maybe, thereby beat them. 

‘What is it, man the Admiral had asked, on being 
told by Captain Rich ford that this was one of his, a 
man who had gone westward with Drake, and a worthy 
man, too. 

Thereupon, Dan had told of the recovery of the 
Flaming Cross of Santa Marta, and of the tale that 
was told about it amongst the Dons, whereupon the 
Admiral had said that he had heard of it before. 

“But what is it to us?” he had demanded, and then 
Dan had told his plan. 

“If the Dons believe it, sir,” he had said, “why not 
profit by it? The Flaming Cross is the Queen Her 
Most Excellent Majesty’s; that much did Admiral 
Drake and I agree. Let it be used for her glory. Let 
it be nailed to the mast, let the mast be that of the 
Seeker of Pleasure !—and with lights about it! And 
so let the Seeker of Pleasure lead the fleet into the 
harbor again 1” 


246 




BOUND FOR CADIZ 


Thereat there had been much discussion, and at last 
it was resolved that the seemingly mad scheme should be 
tried. 

And standing watching Richford unwrap the Cross 
again, I found myself wondering if this talisman would 
work! 

The flashing fire from the Cross dazzled us, and I 
said that ’twas best that it should be carried up on deck 
covered. 

^Xet me nail it to the mast 1’^ I cried, but they would 
have none of that. 

It needed more skilled hands and feet than mine to 
do that work, and so, another man took the precious 
Cross and clambered aloft with it, while others went 
after him with lanterns, and within half an hour there 
was glowing, like a vivid living flame at our mast¬ 
head—the Cross of Santa Marta. 

The thought came to me as I looked up at the Flam¬ 
ing Cross that it would be a good thing to let Enriquez 
loose from the hold and show him the glowing glory 
aloft, the which I did tell Dan Rodney. His eyes 
gleamed as he heard me, and he went stamping down 
the hatchway and came back presently dragging the 
prisoner. He looked far different from the swaggerer 
of Santa Marta, yet there was still the light of bitter¬ 
ness and hatred—aye, and somewhat of courage, in his 
eye as he faced us. 

“What would ye?’^ he demanded, looking about him, 
and I would swear that even in that gloom of the eve- 

247 




THE FLAMING CROSS OF SANTA MARTA 


ning, he did recognize Cadiz in the distance. Yet if he 
did, he kept it to himself, and I stepping forward, 
pointed a finger towards the masthead. 

“Look youI cried, and his eyes followed the direc¬ 
tion of my hand. Then his manacled hands went to his 
face and he cowered away as in terror. 

“The Cross! The Flaming Cross!” he cried. 

I knew that he realized the significance of it. Aye, 
and he hugged the mast, keeping his eyes covered. In 
such a manner did he stand as the Seeker of Pleasure 
moved in toward shore. 




CHAPTER XVII 
VICTORY 


I T seemed that news had gone through the fleet of 
what was afoot, and when the Cross flamed forth 
there was a great uproar of cheering from every 
ship, and immediately afterwards the guns began again, 
and the ships were bearing down upon the harbor of 
Cadiz. 

The flashes of gunfire, and the booming of the guns 
made the night hideous; the Dons were not caught 
napping, and they gave us much to think about, but 
it was as if that Cross at the masthead of the Seeker of 
Pleasure had inspired our men to deeds of unheard 
valor, for the ships drove in before a terrific fire, and 
threw themselves amongst the Dons. The Seeker of 
Pleasure was in first, and laid herself alongside a mon¬ 
ster of a vessel, from the deck of which there suddenly 
went up cries of dismay—not merely the cries that one 
might rightly expect in such circumstances of battle, 
but cries of sheer terror; and Dan Rodney, who knew 
much of Spanish, shouted with the joy of what he 
heard. 

‘‘ ’Tis the Cross he said. *^They know it and ^tis 
good for us! Out boarders !*’ 

249 


THE FLAMING CROSS OF SANTA MARTA 


The grapnel irons were flung out, and seized upon 
the woodwork of the Don; and then the boarders were 
over, I amongst them. Of that fight I mind me little, 
so fast was it. Yet it was only fast because we had but 
little resistance; it was as if terror had seized the Dons, 
for they scurried away from before us like rats before 
a scalding stream, and presently we had them battened 
down, those of them who had not leaped overboard. 

I leaned me against the ship’s side and wiped 
my sword and, as I did so, Dan Rodney stumbled 
against me. 

‘‘Dan!” I cried. “You’re wounded.” 

“Aye, wounded, but happy!” was his laughing reply. 

“Lad, the day’s won. See-” and he pointed to here 

and to there, where ships were lying silent as regards 
their firing, and to others which were scurrying out to 
sea. “The Dons are beaten, Roger; the Flaming Cross 
has beaten them!” 

As he spoke, there were two great explosions, and 
the night was turned into day; two ships had blown up, 
and in the glare we could see other evidences of the 
havoc that had been wrought upon the Dons, while on 
the shore were buildings in flames. I looked aloft and 
saw the Flaming Cross still shining upon the Seeker of 
Pleasure. 

“Dan,” I said quietly, “ ’twould be a sorry thing if 
a shot carried away the Cross!” 

“Nay, we’ll live to carry it to the Queen herself!” he 

250 






VICTORY 


told me laughingly. ‘Took, there is the signal for 
recall!” 

We scrambled back onto the Seeker of Pleasure, 
leaving a prize crew aboard to get our captive away 
after us, the which was done, and the first sight we saw 
was Enriquez, lying on the deck. I bent over him, and 
Dan with me, peered into his face. I straightened my¬ 
self up and laid a hand upon the shoulder of Rodney. 

O *‘Come, Dan,’^ I said. “Death has cheated you of 
your vengeance. The man is dead!’’ 

“Well for me,’^ said Rodney. “Mayhap my anger 
would have taken some of the manliness from me and 
made me do those things of which I would have been 
ashamed. I mind me not a fair fight with a man, but 
with tricksters and traitors I scarce know how to deal, 
and still think well of Dan Rodney 

“There be other men who think well of Dan Rod¬ 
ney,’’ I told him simply. He took me by the hand, and 
together we went down into the great cabin, where we 
found Captain Rich ford binding up a wounded arm 
with the aid of teeth and the fingers of an arm that 
had not been wounded. 

“ ’Tis over,” he said. “By the Queen’s ruffle, I do 
believe that the Flaming Cross it was that did it.” 
Whereat we laughed and quaffed us a bumper of good 
wine in thanksgiving! 

We stood outside the harbor, our prize alongside us; 
and men were busy clearing away the grim signs of the 
night’s work—signs that looked terrible in the early 

251 




THE FLAMING CROSS OF SANTA MARTA 


morning light. Long since, we had taken down the 
Flaming Cross, and once more it was in the chest in 
Richford’s cabin, and Dan and I imagined that it would 
lie there until we got us back to Plymouth. It was 
not so, however, for presently we saw a boat coming 
towards us, and that it had left the Admiral’s ship. 

We watched it, Dan and I, and soon Richford him¬ 
self came and stood beside us. 

“By the Lord Harry!” he exclaimed, presently. “It 
is the Admiral himself and-” 

“He’s coming hither!” I cried. 

In truth I was right, for the barge drew alongside 
and a ladder was outflung, up which clambered a jovial¬ 
faced sailorman, in splendid raiment. 

“Ho, there 1” he cried. “Captain Richford—^aye, and 
Dan Rodney, I’d have word with you in private!” 

“It is an honor, sir, to us and our ship,” said Rich¬ 
ford, bowing, and he led the way below. Presently a 
messenger came running upon deck and told me that 
the captain did want me, whereat I went me down, 
knocked on the cabin door and, at command, entered. 
To stand at the door and stare, for the Admiral was 
holding the Flaming Cross in his hand, moving this 
way and that, as if to catch to the beauty of it. 

“Come in, Roger 1” said Richford, and I stepped right 
in, closing the door behind me. “Sir,” the captain said 
to the Admiral, “this is Roger Hampsley, of whom we 
have spoken.” 

252 





VICTORY 


The Admiral put down the Cross and held out his 
hand to me. 

^‘Master Hampsley,” he said, ‘T am pleased to shake 
hands with you. But for what you and your friends 
here have done in bringing this Cross from the Main, 
I think me we’d not have had such an easy task last 
night. I know the tale of that Cross, and in truth it 
seems right—aye, and we’ll make the tale right, shall 
we ? We’ve proved to the Dons that they own not the 
seas; now we’ll show them that the ownership shall go 
otherwhere. We’ll use the tale of the Flaming Cross 
against them!” 

I tell you that I felt the blood coursing through me 
at his words, and I could but stammer words that must 
have been incoherent. 

Then, before I could recover myself, the Admiral 
had gone. . . . And presently the fleet was setting sail 
from the coast, battered and torn, but triumphant. 

What more shall I tell ? 

Little, since there be not much to tell about the Flam¬ 
ing Cross, though I’ll have you know that there be 
many things that I might tell of adventures on the seas 
thereafter. For me now, however, my purpose is to 
tell of how Dan Rodney and I, together with Captain 
Richford, did go to London to see the Queen, carrying 
with us the Flaming Cross. 

The fleet had put into port and the Seeker of Pleasure 
had discharged her rich cargo, the sharing being done, 

253 




THE FLAMING CROSS OF SANTA MARTA 


and the men going whither they would to spend their 
treasure. We had left the ship in the hands of the ship¬ 
wrights, for she sorely needed patching; and then, one 
day, we took coach for London, rejoicing in the sight 
of green fields. 

Came the day when we arrived in London, and had 
I time I would tell of what I felt at my first sight of 
the city. But time I have not now. We made us our 
way to Whitehall, bedecked in gay raiment, bought for 
the occasion, and I do mind me that I felt as the equal 
of any slashing youngster that I met, what with my 
new sword and jerkin and hose, and the shoes that had 
them silver buckles. 

*‘A young blood in truth!” Dan Rodney had laughed 
at me, but I cared not for his humor. 

We reached the Palace and. Lord save us, we did 
demand audience of the Queen herself, as though we 
were noblemen 1 

We had somewhat of trouble, but what cared we? 
Dan Rodney drew his sword and well-nigh ran through 
a grinning jackanapes who would have barred our 
way; and thereafter, things did change, so much that 
as we went into the Palace, with swords drawn, folk 
rushed to do our bidding, and there came a moment 
when a man in gold coat and with a red face, as though 
he had just had it smacked—I did learn afterwards that 
that was the truth. Her Majesty doing the slapping 
when he did counsel her to have us thrown out 1—^this 

254 




VICTORY 


man who looked like a canary, came, I say, and bowed 
to us, and bade us follow him. 

The which we did; and presently, we stood face to 
face with the Queen Her Most Excellent Majesty. 

I with the Flaming Cross tucked under my arm, since 
Dan had said that I should do the giving. 

We dropped to our knees, having seen the canary man 
do so, and in such posture did hear the Queen say: 

“I have heard of you—’twas the Admiral who told 
me. Get you to your feet and let me see what bauble 
Tis you bring!’’ 

Bauble, indeed! 

I was angered, and I showed it in my face, I think, 
for the Queen laughed. 

‘‘Nay, Master Hampsley—see, I know your name,” 
she said. “Take not our joking thus. Let’s see thy 
gift 1” 

Which, an you will admit, was better; and I, with 
trembling fingers, unwrapped the Cross and held it out 
to a woman who gasped, went pale, then flushed and 
who seized the thing in her hands. 

Not a word did she say for a while, and we three 
feasted our eyes upon her joy as she played with the 
pretty thing. Then she looked at us. 

“My friends,” she said, and I glowed with the pride 
of that, “ ’tis a very beautiful thing. No bauble this. 
It shall hang-” 

“Not where it can be seen, your Most Excellent 
Majesty!” said Dan Rodney, fearlessly. “There be 

255 





THE FLAMING CROSS OF SANTA MARTA 


men who would give their lives if they might get that 
thing to Spain. We’ve fought for it, aye, and men 
have died for it, that it should come hither to you; see 
you that it be hidden!” 

And then, what would you? The Queen did make 
Dan Rodney tell the tale of the Flaming Cross, though 
I fear me he did leave out not a little of the story; and 
when he had finished, there were tears upon the cheeks 
of the Queen of England. 

She stooped down from the chair on which she sat 
and took us each by the hand. 

“My friends,” she said again, “I thank you. I will 
see you on another day, for I do see that you be gallant 
men—men such as I would have in my service!” 

And so she dismissed us, we as proud as peacocks in 
a king’s garden; and so, my masters, ends the tale of 
the Flaming Cross of Santa Marta. Nay, not ends, 
perhaps, although the Cross itself was broken up, lest 
its existence bring peril to the Queen. But its true story 
went on, and I, who not long after that first sight of 
my Queen, did enter her service, and who now am 
known as Sir Roger Hampsley—^the why of that be¬ 
longs to another story—do know that the tale of the 
Flaming Cross has gone on, for Spain is no longer what 
she was, and England, whom once she despised, now 
rides in splendor and in might upon the seas. 

Strange, you say ? Strange that the Flaming Cross 
should^r^ that about ? Well, mayhap. But not only 
was it"th^^fen^^|)ss—maybe it had little enough 

^ 256 




VICTORY 


to do with it, in truth. But this much is certain, that 
the spirit of the men of England—of men like Haw¬ 
kins, who died as I have told—of Drake, who, too, as 
we heard when we had been not long home, died and 
was given a sailor’s burial, his great expedition unfin¬ 
ished; aye, of men like Dan Rodney—God rest him— 
he died not more than three years agone, in this very 
library where now I sit; such men as these were they 
who broke the power of Spain—aye, and would have 
broken it, even had there been no Flaming Cross of 
Santa Marta, or, being one, had it never left the church 
in that city on the Main. 

(I) 


THE END 













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